THE 

MAIN  CHANCE 


BBBfBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBttBHBBffBBBI 


&mt*»mmmmmmm 
&m»mmmmmmmm 

mmm 


EREDITH  KICHQLSON 


THE  MAIN  CHANCE 


THE  MAIN 
CHANCE 


BY 

MEREDITH  NICHOLSON 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
HARRISON  FISHER 


INDIANAPOLIS 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1903 
THE  BOBBS-MERRLLL  COMPANY 


MAY 


PRESS  OF 

BRAUNWORTH    &  CO. 

BOOKBINDERS   AND   PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN,    N.  Y. 


MA  (  A) 


TO 

E.  K.  N. 

WHO  WILL  REMEMBER  AND 
UNDERSTAND 


K/J5284R1 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEB  PAGE 

I  A  NEW  MAN  IN  TOWN  1 

II  WAERICK  RARIDAN  13 

III  SWEET  PEAS  24 

IV  AT  POINDEXTERS'  39 
V  DEBATABLE  QUESTIONS  63 

VI  A  SAFE  MAN  70 

VII  WARRY  RARIDAN'S  INDIGNATION  82 

VIII  TIM  MARGRAVE  MAKES  A  CHOICE  92 

IX  PARLEYINGS  97 

X  A  WRECKED  CANNA  BED  106 

XI  THE  KNIGHTS  OF  MIDAS  BALL  121 

XII  A  MORNING  AT  ST.  PAUL'S  136 

XIII  BARGAIN  AND  SALE  152 

XIV  THE  GIRL  THAT  TRIES  HARD  166 
XV  AT  THE  COUNTRY  CLUB  174 

XVI  THE  LADY  AND  THE  BUNKER  193 

XVII  WARRY'S  REPENTANCE  206 

XVIII  FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER  213 

XIX  A  FORECAST  AT  THE  WHIPPLES'  229 

XX  ORCHARD  LANE  237 

XXI  JAMES  WHEATON  MAKES  A  COMPUTATION  241 

XXII  AN  ANNUAL  PASS  250 

XXIII  WILLIAM  PORTER  RETURNS  FROM  A  JOURNEY  258 

XXIV  INTERRUPTED  PLANS  266 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTEE  PAQE 

XXV  JAMES  WHEATON  DECLINES  AN  OFFEB  272 

XXVI  THE  KEY  TO  A  DILEMMA  279 

XXVII  A  MEETING  BETWEEN  GENTLEMEN  289 

XXVIII  BROKEN  GLASS  299 

XXIX  JOHN  SAXTON,  RECEIVER  310 

XXX  GREEN  CHARTREUSE  313 

XXXI  PUZZLING  AUTOGRAPHS  819 

XXXII  CROSSED  WIRES  823 

XXXIII  A  DISAPPEARANCE  332 

XXXIV  JOHN  SAXTON  SUGGESTS  A  CLUE  339 
XXXV  SHOTS  IN  THE  DARK  352 

XXXVI  HOME  THROUGH  THE  SNOW  870 

XXXVII  "A  PECULIAR  BRICK"  879 

XXXVIII  OLD  PHOTOGRAPHS  384 

XXXIX  "IT  IS  CRUEL"  389 

XL  SHIFTED  BURDENS  399 

XLI  RETROSPECTIVE  VANITY  403 

XLII  AT  THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS  407 


THE  MAIN  CHANCE 


THE   MAIN  CHANCE 

CHAPTER  I 

A  NEW   MAN   IN  TOWN 

"Well,  sir,  they  say  I'm  crooked !" 

William  Porter  tipped  back  his  swivel  chair  and 
placidly  puffed  a  cigar  as  he  watched  the  effect  of  this 
declaration  on  the  young  man  who  sat  talking  to  him. 

"That's  said  of  every  successful  man  nowadays,  isn't 
it  ?"  asked  John  Saxton. 

The  president  of  the  Clarkson  National  Bank  ignored 
the  question  and  rolled  his  cigar  from  one  side  of  his 
mouth  to  the  other,  as  he  waited  for  his  words  to  make 
their  full  impression  upon  his  visitor. 

"They  say  I'm  crooked,"  he  repeated,  with  a  narrow 
ing  of  the  eyes,  "but  they  don't  say  it  very  loud !" 

Porter  kicked  his  heels  together  gently  and  watched 
his  visitor  with  eyes  in  which  there  was  no  trace  of 
humor;  but  Saxton  saw  that  he  was  expected  to  laugh. 

"No,  sir;"  the  banker  continued,  "they  don't  say  it 
very  loud,  and  I  guess  they  don't  any  of  them  want  to 
have  to  prove  it.  I'm  afraid  those  Boston  friends  of 
yours  have  given  us  up  as  a  bad  lot,"  he  went  on,  waiv 
ing  the  matter  of  his  personal  rectitude  and  returning 
to  the  affairs  of  his  visitor;  "and  they've  sent  you  out 

1 


2  THE  MAIX  CHANCE 

here  to  get  their  money,  and  I  don't  blame  them.  Well, 
sir ;  that  money's  got  to  come  out  in  time,  but  it's  going 
to  take  time  and  money  to  get  it." 

"I  believe  they  sent  me  because  I  had  plenty  of  time," 
said  Saxton,  smiling. 

"Well,  we  want  to  help  you  win  out/'  returned  Porter. 
"And  now  what  can  I  do  to  start  you  off?"  he  asked 
briskly.  "Have  you  got  a  place  to  stay?  Well,  sir,  I 
warn  you  solemnly  against  the  hotels  in  this  town;  but 
we've  got  a  fairly  decent  club  up  here,  and  you'd  better 
stay  there  till  you  get  acquainted.  Been  to  breakfast? 
Breakfast  on  the  train?  That's  good.  Just  look  over 
the  papers  till  I  get  rid  of  these  letters  and  I'll  be  free." 

Porter  turned  to  his  desk  and  replaced  the  eye 
glasses  which  he  had  dropped  while  talking.  There  was 
an  air  of  great  alertness  in  his  small,  lean  figure  as  he 
pushed  buttons  to  summon  various  members  of  the 
clerical  force  and  rapidly  dictated  terse  telegrams  and 
letters  to  a  stenographer.  He  continued  to  smoke, 
and  he  shifted  constantly  the  narrow-brimmed,  red- 
banded  straw  hat  -that  he  wore  above  his  shrewd  face. 
It  was  an  agreeable  face  to  see,  of  a  type  that  is 
common  wherever  the  North-Irish  stock  is  found  in 
America,  and  its  characteristics  were  expressed  in  his 
firm,  lean  jaw  and  blue  eyes,  and  his  reddish  hair  and 
mustache,  through  which  there  were  streaks  of  gray. 
He  wore  his  hair  short,  but  it  was  still  thick,  and  he 
combed  it  with  precision.  His  clothes  fitted  him;  he 
wore  a  bright  cravat,  well  tied,  and  his  shoes  were  care 
fully  polished.  Saxton  was  impressed  by  the  banker's 
perfect  confidence  and  ease;  it  manifested  itself  in  the 
way  he  tapped  buttons  to  call  his  subordinates,  or 


A  NEW  MAN  IN  TOWN  3 

turned  to  satisfy   the   importunities   of  the   desk-tele 
phone  at  his  elbow. 

John  Saxton  had  been  sent  to  Clarkson  by  the  Nepon- 
set  Trust  Company  of  Boston  to  represent  the  interests 
of  a  group  of  clients  who  had  made  rash  investments 
in  several  of  the  Trans-Missouri  states.  Foreclosure 
had,  in  many  instances,  resulted  in  the  transfer  to 
themselves  of  much  town  and  ranch  property  which 
was,  in  the  conditions  existing  in  the  early  nineties,  an 
exceedingly  slow  asset.  It  was  necessary  that  some  one 
on  the  ground  should  care  for  these  interests.  The 
Clarkson  National  Bank  had  been  exercising  a  general 
supervision,  but,  as  one  of  the  investors  told  his  fellow 
sufferers  in  Boston,  they  should  have  an  agent  whom 
they  could  call  home  and  abuse,  and  here  was  Saxton, 
a  conscientious  and  steady  fellow,  who  had  some  knowl 
edge  of  the  country,  and  who,  moreover,  needed  some 
thing  to  do'.  Saxton's  acquaintance  with  the  West  had 
been  gained  by  a  bitter  experience  of  ranching  in  Wyo 
ming.  A  blizzard  had  destroyed  his  cattle,  and  the  sub 
sequent  depression  in  land  values  in  the  neighborhood 
of  his  ranch  had  left  him  encumbered  with  a  property 
for  which  there  was  no  market.  His  friends  had  been 
correct  in  the  assumption  that  he  needed  employment, 
and  he  was,  moreover,  glad  of  the  chance  to  get  away 
from  home,  where  the  impression  was  making  headway 
that  he  had  failed  at  something  in  the  vague,  non- 
interest-paying  WTest.  When,  on  his  return  from  Wyo 
ming,  it  became  necessary  for  his  former  acquaintances 
to  identify  him  to  one  another,  they  said,  with  varying 
degrees  of  kindness,  that  John  had  gone  broke  at  ranch 
ing  ;  and  if  they  liked  him  particularly,  they  said  it  was 


4  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

too  bad;  if  they  had  not  known  him  well  in  his  fortunate 
days,  they  mildly  intimated  that  a  fool  and  his  money 
found  quicker  divorce  at  ranching  than  in  any  other 
way.  Most  of  Saxton's  friends  and  contemporaries  had 
made  good  beginnings  at  home,  and  he  felt,  unneces 
sarily  perhaps,  that  his  failure  made  him  a  marked 
man  among  them. 

"Now,"  said  Porter  presently,  scrutinizing  a  telegram 
carefully  before  signing  it,  "I'll  take  you  up  to  the  office 
we've  been  keeping  for  your  people,  and  show  you  what 
it  looks  like.  Some  of  these  things  are  run  as  corpora 
tions,  you  understand,  and  in  our  state  corporations 
have  to  maintain  a  tangible  residence/' 

"So  that  the  sheriff  may  find  them  more  easily," 
added  Saxton. 

"Well,  that's  no  joke,"  returned  Porter,  as  they  en 
tered  the  elevator  from  the  outer  hall;  "but  they  don't 
necessarily  have  much  office  furniture  to  levy  on." 

The  room  proved  to  be  a  small  one  at  the  top  of  the 
building.  On  the  ground-glass  door  was  inscribed  "The 
Interstate  Irrigation  Company."  The  room  contained 
a  safe,  a  flat-top  desk  and  a  few  chairs.  Several  maps 
hung  on  the  wall,  some  of  them  railroad  advertisements, 
and  others  were  engineers'  charts  of  ranch  lands  and 
irrigation  ditches. 

"It  ain't  pretty,"  said  Porter  critically,  "hut  if  you 
don't  like  it  you  can  move  when  you  get  ready.  The 
bank  is  your  landlord,  and  we  don't  charge  you  much 
for  it.  You've  doubtless  got  your  inventory  of  stuff  with 
you,  and  here  in  the  safe  you'll  find  the  accounts  of 
these  companies,  copies  of  public  records  relating  to 
them,  and  so  on."  As  Porter  talked  he  stood  in  the 


A  NEW  MAN  IN  TOWN  5 

middle  of  the  room  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 
puffed  at  a  cigar,  throwing  his  head  back  in  an  effort  to 
escape  the  smoke.  He  stood  with  one  foot  on  a  chair 
and  pushed  his  hat  away  from  his  forehead  as  he  con 
tinued  reflectively :  "You're  going  up  against  a  pretty 
tough  proposition,,  young  man.  You'll  hear  a  hard  luck 
story  wherever  you  go  out  here  just  now;  people  who 
owe  your  friends  money  will  be  mighty  sorry  they  can't 
pay.  Many  of  the  ranch  lands  your  people  own  will 
be  worth  something  after  a  while.  That  Colorado  irri 
gation  scheme  ought  to  pan  out  in  time,  and  I  believe 
it  will;  but  you've  got  to  nurse  all  these  things.  Make 
your  principals  let  you  alone.  Those  fellows  get  in  a 
hurry  at  the  wrong  time, — that's  my  experience  with 
Eastern  investors.  Tell  them  to  go  to  Europe, — get  rid 
of  them  for  a  while,  and  make  them  give  you  a  chance 
to  work  out  their  money  for  them.  They're  not  the  only 
pebbles."  A  slight  smile  seemed  to  creep  over  a  small 
area  about  the  banker's  lips,  but  his  cigar  only  partly 
revealed  it.  His  eyes  rarely  betrayed  him,  and  the  mo 
notonous  drawl  of  his  voice  was  without  humorous 
intention. 

"I'll  send  the  combination  of  the  safe  up  by  the  boy/' 
he  said,  moving  toward  the  door,  "and  you  can  get  a 
bird's-eye  view  of  the  situation  before  lunch.  Mr. 
Wheaton,  our  cashier,  is  away  to-day,  but  he's  familiar 
with  these  matters  and  will  be  glad  to  help  you  when 
he  gets  home.  He'll  be  back  to-night.  When  you  get 
stuck  call  on  us.  And  drop  down  about  twelve  thirty 
and  go  up  to  the  club  for  lunch.  Take  it  easy;  you 
can't  do  it  all  in  one  day,"  he  added. 

"I  hope  I  shan't  be  a  nuisance  to  you,"  said    the 


6  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

younger  man.  "I'm  going  to  fight  it  out  on  the  best 
lines  I  know  how, — if  it  takes  several  summers." 

"Well,  it'll  take  them  all  right/'  said  Porter,  senten- 
tiously. 

Left  to  himself  Saxton  examined  his  new  quarters, 
found  a  feather  duster  hanging  in  a  corner  and  brushed 
the  dirt  from  the  scanty  furniture.  This  done,  he 
drew  a  pipe  from  his  pocket,  filled  it  from  his  tobacco 
pouch  and  sat  down  by  the  open  window,  through 
which  the  breeze  came  cool  out  of  the  great  valley; 
and  here  he  could  see,  far  over  the  roofs  and  spires 
of  the  town,  the  bluffs  that  marked  the  broad  bed  of 
the  tawny  Missouri.  He  was  not  as  buoyant  as  his  last 
words  to  the  banker  implied.  Here  he  was,  he  reflected, 
a  man  of  good  education,  as  such  things  go,  who  had 
lost  his  patrimony  in  a  single  venture.  He  had  been 
sent,  partly  out  of  compassion,  he  felt,  to  take  charge 
of  investments  that  were  admitted  to  be  almost  hope 
lessly  bad.  The  salary  promised  would  provide  for  him 
comfortably,  and  that  was  about  all;  anything  further 
would  depend  upon  himself,  the  secretary  of  the  Nepon- 
set  Trust  Company  had  told  him;  it  would,  he  felt, 
depend  much  more  particularly  on  the  making  over 
by  benign  powers  of  the  considerable  part  of  the  earth's 
surface  in  which  his  principals'  money  lay  hidden. 
As  his  eyes  wandered  to  one  of  the  office  walls,  the  black 
trail  of  a  great  transcontinental  railroad  caught  and 
held  his  attention.  On  one  of  its  northern  prongs  lay 
the  region  of  his  first  defeat. 

"Three  years  of  life  are  up  there,"  he  meditated, 
"and  all  my  good  dollars  are  scattered  along  the  right 
of  way,"  Many  things  came  back  to  him  vividly—how 


A  NEW  MAN  IN  TOWN  7 

the  wind  used  to  howl  around  the  little  ranch  house, 
and  how  he  rode  through  the  snow  among  his  dying 
cattle  in  the  great  storm  that  had  been  his  undoing. 
With  his  eyes  still  resting  on  the  map,  he  recurred  to 
his  early  school  days  and  to  his  four  years  at  Harvard. 
There  was  a  burden  of  heartache  in  these  recollections. 
Incidents  of  the  unconscious  brutality  of  playmates 
came  back  to  him, — the  cruel  candor  with  which  they 
had  rejected  him  from  sports  in  which  proficiency,  and 
not  mere  strength  or  zeal,  was  essential.  He  had  en 
joyed  at  college  no  experience  of  success  in  any  of 
those  ways  which  mark  the  undergraduate  for  brief 
authority  or  fame.  He  had  never  been  accepted  for 
the  crew  nor  for  the  teams  that  represented  the  university 
on  diamond  or  gridiron,  though  he  had  always  par 
ticipated  in  athletics,  and  was  possessed  of  unusual 
strength.  None  of  the  professions  had  appealed  to 
him,  and  he  had  not  heeded  his  father's  wish  that  he 
enter  the  law.  The  elder  Saxton,  who  was  himself  a 
lawyer  of  moderate  success,  died  before  John's  gradua 
tion  ;  he  had  lost  his  mother  in  his  youth,  and  his  only 
remaining  relative  was  a  sister  who  married  before  he 
left  college. 

A  review  of  these  brief  and  discouraging  annals  did 
not  hearten  him ;  but  he  fell  back  upon  the  better  mood 
with  which  he  had  begun  the  morning;  he  had  a  new 
chance,  and  he  proposed  to  make  the  best  of  it.  He  put 
aside  his  coat  and  hat,  lighted  the  pipe  which  he  had 
been  holding  in  his  hand,  and  opened  his  desk.  The 
banker  had  sent  up  the  combination  of  the  safe,  as  he 
had  promised,  and  Saxton  began  inspecting  its  contents 
and  putting  his  office  in  order. 


8  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"I'm  in  for  a  long  stay/'  he  reflected.  "Watson  and 
Terrell  and  those  other  fellows  are  just  about  reaching 
Park  Street,  perhaps  with  virtuous  thoughts  of  having 
given  me  a  job,  if  they  haven't  forgotten  me.  It's 
probably  a  pleasant  day  in  Boston,  with  the  flowers 
looking  their  best  in  the  Gardens;  but  this  is  better 
than  my  Wyoming  pastures,  anyhow."  The  books  and 
papers  began  to  interest  him,  and  he  was  soon  classify 
ing  the  properties  that  had  fallen  to  his  care.  He  was 
one  of  those  fortunate  individuals  who  are  endowed  with 
a  capacity  for  complete  absorption  in  the  work  at 
hand, — the  frequent  possession  of  persons,  who,  like 
Saxton,  enjoy  immunity  from  visits  of  the  alluring  will- 
o'-the-wisps  that  beguile  geniuses.  He  was  so  deeply 
occupied  that  he  did  not  mark  the  flight  of  time  and 
was  surprised  when  a  boy  came  with  a  message  from 
Porter  that  he  was  ready  to  go  to  luncheon. 

"You  mustn't  overdo  the  thing,  young  man,"  said 
the  banker  amiably,  as  he  closed  his  desk.  "Don't  you 
adopt  our  Western  method  of  working  all  the  hours 
there  are.  I  do  it  now  because  my  neighbors  and  cus 
tomers  would  talk  about  me  if  I  didn't,  and  say  that  I 
had  lost  my  grip  in  my  old  age." 

They  started  up  the  sloping  street,  which  was  in 
tensely  hot. 

"In  my  last  job  I  worked  twenty  hours  a  day,"  said 
Saxton,  "and  lost  money  in  spite  of  it." 

"You  mean  up  in  Wyoming;  the  Neponset  people 
wrote  me  that  you  were  a  reformed  cattleman." 

"Yes,  I  was  winter-killed  at  the  business."  He  as 
sumed  that  Porter  would  not  care  particularly  for  the 
details  of  his  failure.  Western  men  are,  he  knew,  much 


A  NEW  MAN  IN  TOWN  9 

more  tolerant  of  failure  than  Eastern  men;  but  he  was 
relieved  to  hear  the  banker  drawling  on  with  a  comment 
on  Clarkson,  its  commercial  history  and  prospects. 

At  the  twentieth  anniversary  of  the  founding  of  the 
Clarkson  Chamber  of  Commerce,  the  local  boy  orator, 
who  made  a  point  of  quoting  Holy  Writ  in  his  speeches, 
spoke  of  Clarkson  as  "no  mean  city,"  just  as  many 
another  orator  has  applied  this  same  apt  Pauline  phrase 
to  many  another  metropolis.  The  business  of  Clarkson 
had  to  do  with  primary  employments  and  needs.  The 
cattle  of  a  thousand  hills  and  of  many  rough  pastures 
were  gathered  here;  and  here  wheat  and  corn  from 
three  states  were  assembled.  In  exchange  for  these  prod 
ucts,  Clarkson  returned  to  the  country  all  of  the  neces 
sities  and  some  of  the  luxuries  of  life.  Several  impor 
tant  railway  lines  had  their  administrative  offices  here. 
Ores  were  brought  from  the  Rockies,  from  Mexico,  and 
even  from  British  Columbia,  to  the  great  smelters  whose 
smoke  and  fumes  hung  over  the  town.  Neither  coal, 
wood  nor  iron  lay  near  at  hand,  so  that  manufacturing 
was  almost  unknown;  but  the  packing-houses  and  smel 
ters  gave  employment  to  many  laborers,  drawn  in  great 
measure  from  the  Slavonic  races. 

Varney  Street  cut  through  the  town  at  right  angles  to 
the  river,  bisecting  the  business  district.  It  then  gradu 
ally  threw  off  its  commercial  aspect  until  at  last  it  was 
lined  with  the  homes  of  most  of  Clarkson's  wealthiest 
citizens.  An  exaggerated  estimate  of  the  value  of  corner 
lots  had  caused  many  of  them  to  be  left  vacant;  and 
weeds  and  signboards  exercised  eminent  domain  be 
tween  booms.  North  and  south  of  Yarney  Street  were 
other  thoroughfares  which  strove  to  be  equally  fash- 


10      ,  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

ionable,  and  here  citizens  had  sometimes  built  them 
selves  houses  that  were,  as  they  said,  as  good  as  any 
thing  in  Varney  Street.  Everywhere  ragged  edges  re 
mained;  old  unpainted  frame  buildings  lingered  in 
blocks  that  otherwise  contained  handsome  houses.  Su 
gar-loaf  cubes  of  clay  loomed  lonesomely,  with  houses 
stranded  high  on  their  summits,  where  property  owners 
had  been  too  poor  to  cut  down  their  bits  of  earth  to 
conform  to  new  levels.  The  clay  banks  were  ugly,  but 
they  were  doomed  to  remain  until  the  next  high  tide 
of  prosperity. 

The  Clarkson  Club  stood  at  the  edge  of  the  commer 
cial  district,,  and  its  Milwaukee  brick  walls  rose  hot  and 
staring  in  the  July  sun  as  Porter  and  Saxton  ap 
proached. 

"Here  we  are,"  said  Porter,  leading  the  way  into  the 
wide  hall.  "We'll  arrange  about  your  business  relations 
later.  There's  a  very  bad  lunch  ready  upstairs,  and 
we'll  go  against  that  first." 

There  were  only  a  few  men  in  the  dining-room, 
seated  at  a  round  table.  Porter  exchanged  salutations 
with  them  as  he  passed  on  to  a  small  table  at  the  end 
of  the  room.  Those  who  were  of  his  own  age  called 
Porter,  "Billy,"  and  he  included  them  all  in  the  careless 
nod  of  old  acquaintance.  Porter  offered  Saxton  the 
wine  card,  which  the  young  man  declined  with  instinc 
tive  knowledge  that  he  was  expected  to  do  so.  They 
took  the  simple  table  d'hote,  which  was,  as  Porter  had 
predicted,  very  bad.  The  banker  ate  little  and  carried 
the  burden  of  the  conversation. 

They  went  from  the  table  for  an  inspection  of  the 
club,  and  arranged  with  the  clerk  in  the  office  for  a 


A  NEW  MAN"  IN  TOWN  11 

room  on  the  third  floor,  which  Mr.  Saxton  was  to  have, 
so  Porter  told  the  clerk,  until  he  didn't  want  it  any 
more. 

"It's  all  right  about  the  rules/'  he  said;  "if  the 
house  committee  kick  about  it,  send  them  to  me."  They 
stopped  in  the  lounging  room,  where  the  men  from  the 
round  table  were  now  talking  or  looking  at  newspapers. 
Porter  introduced  Saxton  to  all  of  them,  stating  in  his 
humorous  way,  with  variations  in  every  case,  that  this 
was  a  new  man  in  town;  that  victims  were  scarce  in 
hard  times,  and  that  they  must  make  the  most  of  him. 
Several  of  the  men  who  shook  hands  with  Saxton  were 
railroad  officials,  but  nearly  every  line  of  business  was 
represented.  All  seemed  to  wear  their  business  con 
sciously,  and  Saxton  was  made  aware  of  their  several 
employments  in  one  way  or  another  as  he  stood  talking 
to  them.  He  felt  that  their  own  frankness  should  elicit 
a  response  on  his  part,  and  he  stated  that  he  had  come 
to  represent  the  interests  of  "Eastern  people," — a  phrase 
which,  in  that  territory,  has  weight  and  significance. 
This,  he  thought,  should  be  sufficiently  explicit;  and 
he  felt  that  his  interlocutors  were  probably  appraising 
him  with  selfish  eyes  as  a  possible  customer  or  client. 
However,  they  were  very  cordial,  and  presently  he  found 
that  they  were  chaffing  one  another  for  his  benefit,  and 
trying  to  bring  him  within  the  arc  of  their  own  easy 
comradeship. 

"If  you're  going  with  me,"  said  Porter  at  his  elbow, 
"you'd  better  get  a  move  on  you."  But  the  whole  group 
went  out  together,  Porter  leaving  Saxton  to  the  others, 
with  that  confidence  in  human  friendliness  which  is 
peculiar  to  the  social  intercourse  of  men.  They  made 


12  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

him  feel  their  honest  wish  to  consider  him  one  of  them 
selves,  making  a  point  of  saying  to  him,  as  they  dropped 
out  one  by  one,  that  they  hoped  to  see  him  often.  Porter 
led  the  way  back  down  Varney  Street,  smoking  medita 
tively  and  carrying  his  hat  in  his  hand.  He  said  at 
the  bank  door:  "Now  you  make  them  give  you  what 
you  want  at  the  club,  and  if  they  don't,  you  want  to 
raise  the  everlasting  Nick.  I've  got  a  house  up  here  on 
Varney  Street, — come  up  for  dinner  to-morrow  night 
and  we'll  see  if  we  can't  raise  a  breeze  for  you.  It's 
hotter  than  Suez  here,  and  you'd  better  take  my  advice 
about  starting  in  slow." 

He  went  into  the  bank,  leaving  a  trail  of  smoke  be 
hind  him;  and  Saxton  took  the  elevator  for  his  own 
office. 


CHAPTEK  II 

WARRICK  RARIDAN 

The  Clarkson  Club  was,  during  most  of  the  day,  the 
loneliest  place  in  town.  Only  a  few  of  the  sleeping 
rooms  were  occupied  regularly,  and  luncheon  was  the 
one  incident  of  the  day  that  drew  any  considerable 
number  of  men  to  the  dining-room.  The  antlered 
heads  of  moose  and  elk  were  hung  in  the  hall,  and  col 
ored  prints  of  English  hunting  scenes  and  bad  oil  por 
traits  of  several  pioneers  were  scattered  through  the 
reading  and  lounging  rooms.  There  was  a  room  which 
was  referred  to  flatteringly  as  the  library,  but  its  equip 
ment  of  literature  consisted  of  an  encyclopedia  and  of 
novels  which  had  been  contributed  by  members  at  times 
coincident  with  housecleaning  seasons  at  home.  Clark- 
son  business  men  who  maintained  non-resident  member 
ships  in  Chicago  or  St.  Louis  clubs,  said,  in  excusing 
the  poor  patronage  of  the  Clarkson  Club,  that  Clarkson 
was  not  a  club  town,  like  Kansas  City  or  Denver,  where 
there  were  more  unattached  men  with  money  to  spend. 

Saxton  was  not  over-sensitive,  but  the  stiffness  and 
hardnesss  of  the  club  house  were  not  without  their  dis 
agreeable  impression  on  him  as  he  sat  at  dinner  toward 
the  close  of  his  first  day  in  Clarkson.  Two  of  the  men 
to  whom  Porter  had  introduced  him  at  noon  proved  to 

13 


14  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

be  fellow  lodgers,  and  they  exchanged  greetings  with 
him  from  the  table  where  they  sat  together.  They  un- 
sociably  read  their  evening  papers  as  they  ate,  and  left 
before  he  finished.  He  had  lighted  a  cigar  over  his 
coffee,  and  was  watching  the  fading  colors  of  a  brilliant 
sunset  when  a  young  man  appeared  at  the  door,  and 
after  a  brief  inspection  of  Saxton's  back  walked  over 
to  him. 

"Aren't  you  Mr.  Saxton  ?  I  thought  you  must  be  he. 
My  name  is  Earidan.  Don't  let  me  break  in  on  your 
meditations/'  he  added,  taking  the  chair  which  the 
waiter  drew  out  for  him.  "I  met  Mr.  Porter  a  while 
ago,  and  he  adjured  me  on  penalties  that  I  won't  name 
to  be  good  to  you.  I  don't  know  whether  this  is  obey 
ing  orders," — he  broke  off  in  a  laugh, — "that  depends 
on  the  point  of  view."  He  had  produced  a  cigarette 
case  from  his  pocket  and  rolled  a  white  cylinder  between 
his  palms  before  lighting  it.  As  the  flame  leaped  from 
the  match,  Saxton  noted  the  young  man's  thin  face,  his 
thick,  curling  dark  hair,  his  slight  mustache,  the  slen- 
derness  of  his  fingers.  The  eyes  that  lay  back  of  rimless 
glasses  were  almost  too  fine  for  a  man;  but  their  gen 
tleness  and  kindliness  were  charming. 

"You  are  guilty  of  a  very  Christian  act,"  Saxton  said. 
"I  was  just  wondering  whether,  after  the  sun  had  gone 
down  behind  that  ridge  over  there,  the  world  would 
still  be  going  round." 

"The  world  never  stops  entirely  here,"  returned  Eari 
dan,  "but  the  motion  sometimes  gets  very  slow.  Mr. 
Porter  tells  me  that  you're  to  be  one  of  us.  Let  me 
congratulate  us, — and  you!" 

"I'm  not  so  sure  about  you/'  rejoined  Saxton.    "At 


WAEEICK  EAEIDAN  15 

my  last  stopping  place  in  the  West  they  had  a  way  of 
getting  rid  of  undesirable  members  of  the  community, 
and  I've  never  got  over  being  nervous.  But  that  was 
Wyoming.  I'm  sure  you're  more  civilized  here." 

"Not  merely  civilized;  we  are  civilization!  You  see 
I'm  a  native,  and  devoted  to  the  home  sod.  My  father 
was  one  of  the  first  settlers.  I  never  knew  why/'  he 
laughed  again — it  was  a  pleasant  laugh — "but  I've  tried 
to  live  up  to  my  duties  as  one  of  the  first  Caucasians 
born  in  the  county.  Some  day  I'll  be  exhibited  at  the 
State  Fair  and  little  children  will  look  at  me  with  awe 
and  admiration." 

"That  makes  me  feel  very  humble.  I'm  almost  afraid 
to  tell  you  that  I'm  a  native  of  Boston,  with  a  long  line 
of  highly  undistinguished  and  terribly  conventional 
ancestors  back  of  me.  My  father  was  never  west  of 
Albany;  my  mother  was  never  in  a  sleeping-car.  But 
I'm  not  a  tenderfoot.  I  rode  the  initiating  bronco  in 
Wyoming  through  all  the  degrees;  and  a  cowboy  once 
shot  at  me  on  his  unlucky  day." 

"Oh,  your  title's  clear.  That  record  gives  you  all 
the  rights  of  a  native." 

Earidan  waved  away  the  waiter  who  had  been  hover 
ing  near,  and  who  now  went  over  to  the  electric  switch 
and  threatened  them  with  light. 

"That's  too  good  to  lose/'  Earidan  said,  nodding 
toward  the  west  in  explanation. 

Warrick  Earidan  was,  socially  speaking,  the  most 
available  man  in  the  Clarkson  Blue  Book.  He  was  a 
graduate  in  law  who  did  not  practise,  for  he  had,  un 
fortunately,  been  left  alone  in  the  world  at  twenty-six, 
with  an  income  that  seemed  wholly  adequate  for  his 


16  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

immediate  or  future  needs.  He  maintained  an  office, 
which  was  fairly  well  equipped  with  the  literature  of 
his  profession,  but  this  was  merely  to  take  away  the  re 
proach  of  his  busier  fellow  citizens;  it  was  not  thought 
respectable  to  be  an  idler  in  Clarkson,  even  on  reputable 
antecedents  and  established  credit.  But  Karidan's  of 
fice  was  useful  otherwise  than  in  providing  its  owner 
with  a  place  for  receiving  his  mail.  It  was  the  rendez 
vous  for  a  variety  of  committees  to  which  he  was  ap 
pointed  by  such  unrelated  bodies  as  the  Clarkson  Dra 
matic  Club  and  the  Diocesan  Board  of  Missions  of  the 
Episcopal  Church.  He  had  never,  by  any  chance,  been 
pointed  to  as  a  model  young  man,  but  religious  matters 
interested  him  sporadically,  and  he  was  referred  to 
facetiously  by  his  friends,  when  his  punctilious  religious 
observances  were  mentioned,  as  a  fine  type  of  the  "cheer 
ful  Christian."  He  appeared  every  Sunday  at  the 
cathedral,  which  was  the  fashionable  church  in  Clarkson, 
where  he  passed  the  plate  for  the  alms  and  oblations  of 
the  well-dressed  congregation;  and  he  said  of  himself, 
with  conscious  humor,  that  he  thought  he  did  it  rather 
well. 

He  was  capable  of  quixotism  of  the  most  whimsical 
sort.  He  had,  for  a  year,  taken  his  meals  at  a  cheap 
boarding-house  in  order  that  he  might  maintain  two 
Indian  boys  in  school.  He  was  not  at  all  aggrieved; 
when,  at  the  end  of  the  first  year,  they  ran  away  and 
resumed  tribal  relations  with  their  brethren.  He  chaffed! 
himself  about  it  to  his  friends. 

"It  was  wrong  for  me/'  he  would  say,  "to  try  to 
pervert  the  tastes  of  those  young  savages.  I  nearly 
ruined  my  own  digestion  to  buy  them  white  man's 


WARRICK  RARIDAN  17 

luxuries;  I  wore  out  my  old  clothes  that  they  might 
not  go  naked;  and  all  they  learned  was  to  smoke 
cigarettes." 

It  was  not  enough  to  say  that  Warry  Raridan  could 
lead  a  german  or  tie  an  Ascot  tie  better  than  any  other 
man  on  the  Missouri  River;  for  he  was  also  the  best 
informed  man  in  that  same  strenuous  valley  concerning 
the  traditions  of  the  English  stage,  and  was  a  fairly 
good  actor  himself,  as  amateurs  go.  He  had  an  almost 
fatal  cleverness,,  which  made  him  impatient  of  the  re 
straints  of  college;  and  he  left  in  his  sophomore  year 
owing  to  difficulties  with  the  mathematical  require 
ments.  Good  books  had  abounded  in  his  father's  house, 
and  he  was  from  boyhood  a  persistent,  though  erratic 
reader.  He  threw  himself  with  enthusiasm  into  the 
study  of  the  rise  of  monastic  orders ;  and  from  this  he 
changed  lightly  to  the  newest  books  on  psychology. 
There  were  many  ways  in  which  he  could  be  entertain 
ing.  He  had  a  slight  literary  gift,  which  he  cultivated 
for  his  own  amusement.  His  humor  was  fine  and  keen, 
and  he  occasionally  wrote  screeds  for  the  local  papers, 
or  mailed,  apropos  of  something  or  nothing,  pleasant 
jingles  to  his  intimate  friends. 

No  Clarkson  hostess  felt  that  a  visiting  girl  had  re 
ceived  courteous  attention  unless  she  carried  home  a 
portfolio  of  verses  written  in  her  honor  by  Warry 
Raridan.  He  gave,  indeed,  an  impression  of  great  fri 
volity,  but  there  were  people  who  .took  him  seriously, 
and  lawyers  who  knew  him  well  said  that  he  might 
win  success  in  his  profession  if  he  would  apply  him 
self.  He  had  once  appeared  for  the  people  in  a 
suit  to  compel  the  street-railway  company  to  pave 


18  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

certain  streets,  as  provided  by  the  terms  of  its  franchise, 
and  had  gained  his  point  against  the  best  lawyers  in  the 
state.  This  accomplished,  he  refused  an  appointment 
as  local  counsel  for  a  great  railway,  and  with  character 
istic  perverseness  spent  the  following  summer  manag 
ing  an  open-air  mission  for  poor  children. 

Saxton  was  greatly  amused  and  entertained  by  Rari- 
dan.  Even  those  of  his  fellow  townsmen  who  did  not 
wholly  approve  Warry  Raridan,  admitted  his  enter 
taining  qualities;  and  Saxton,  who  was  painfully  con 
scious  of  his  own  shortcomings  and  knew  that  he  had 
not  usually  been  considered  worth  cultivating,  found 
himself  responding  with  unwonted  lightness  to  Rari- 
dan's  inconsequential  talk.  Few  people  had  ever 
thought  it  necessary  to  take  pains  with  John  Saxton, 
and  he  greatly  enjoyed  the  novelty  of  this  intercourse 
with  a  man  of  his  own  age  who  was  not  a  bore.  The 
bores,  as  Saxton  remembered  from  his  college  days, 
had  taken  advantage  of  his  good  nature  and  marked 
him  for  their  own ;  and  with  a  keen  realization  of  this 
he  had  often  wondered  in  bitterness  whether  they  did 
not  classify  him  correctly. 

"I'll  wager  that  if  you  stay  here  a  year  you'll  never 
leave,"  said  Raridan,  as  they  went  downstairs  together. 
"I've  been  about  a  good  deal,  and  know  that  we  who  live 
here  miss  a  lot  of  comfort  and  amusement  which  go 
as  a  matter  of  course  in  older  towns.  But  there's 
a  roominess  and  expansiveness  about  things  out  here 
that  I  like,  and  I  believe  most  men  who  strike  it  early 
enough  like  it,  and  are  lonesome  for  it  if  they  go  away. 
These  people  here  think  I  stay  because  my  few  business 
interests  are  here.  The  truth  is  that  I've  tried  run- 


WARRICK  RARIDAN  19 

ning  away,  but  after  I've  spent  a  week  east  of  the 
Alleghanies,  I'm  sated  with  the  fleshpots  and  pine  for 
the  wilderness.  Why,  I  go  to  the  stockyards  now  and 
then  just  to  see  the  train-loads  of  steers  come  in.  I 
get  sensations  out  of  the  rush  and  drive  of  all  this  that 
I  wouldn't  take  a  good  deal  for." 

"I  think  I  understand  how  you  feel  about  it,"  said 
Saxton,  looking  more  closely  at  this  young  man,  who 
was  not  ashamed  to  mention  his  sensations  of  sentiment 
to  a  stranger.  "There  were  times  in  Wyoming  wheoi 
Western  life  seemed  pretty  arid,  but  when  I  went  back 
to  Boston  I  was  homesick  for  Cheyenne." 

"That's  a  far  cry,  from  Boston  to  Cheyenne,"  said 
Raridan,  laughing.  He  began  again  volubly:  "A  good 
deal  depends,  I  suppose,  on  which  end  you  cry  from. 
There's  a  lot  of  talk  these  days  about  the  nouveaux 
riches  by  people  who  haven't  any  more  French  than 
that.  We  are  advised  by  a  fairly  competent  poet  that 
men  may  climb  on  stepping-stones  of  their  dead  selves 
to  higher  things;  but  if  they  climb  on  the  pickled  re 
mains  of  the  common  or  garden  pig  I  don't  see  anything 
ignoble  about  it.  I'd  a  lot  rather  ascend  on  a  pyramid 
of  Minnehaha  Hams  than  on  my  dead  self,  which  I  hope 
to  avoid  using  for  step-ladder  purposes  as  long  as  possi 
ble.  The  people  here  are  human  beings,  and  they're 
all  good  enough  to  suit  me.  I'd  as  lief  be  descended 
from  a  canvased  ham  as  an  Astor  peltry  or  a  Vander- 
bilt  steamboat,  And  I'm  tired  of  the  jokes  in  the  bar 
ber-shop  comic  weeklies,  about  the  rich  Westerners  who 
make  a  vulgar  display  of  themselves  in  New  York.  If 
we  do  it,  it's  merely  because  we're  doing  in  Eome  as  the 
Romans  do.  These  same  shampoo  and  hair-cut  humorists 


20  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

are  unable  to  get  away  from  their  jests  about  the  homi 
cidal  tendencies  of  Western  barkeepers  and  the  woolli- 
ness  of  the  cowboys.  Those  anemic  commuters  down 
there  know  no  higher  joy  than  a  Weber  &  Fields  mati 
nee  or  a  Eogers  Brothers  on  the  Bronx  first-night.  Some 
times  I  feel  moved  to  grow  a  line  of  whiskers  and 
add  my  barbaric  yawp  to  the  long  howl  of  the  Populist 
wolf.  But,  you  know/'  he  added,  suddenly  lowering 
his  voice,  "I  reserve  the  right  to  abuse  my  fellow  citi 
zens  when  I  love  them  most.  I  tore  Populism  to  tatters 
last  fall  in  a  few  speeches  they  let  me  make  in  the  back 
counties.  Our  central  committee  hadn't  anything  to 
lose  out  there.  That's  why  they  sent  me!" 

Saxton  was  walking  beside  Earidan  in  the  lower  hall. 
He  felt  an  impulse  to  express  gratitude  for  his  rescue 
from  the  loneliness  of  the  twilight;  but  Earidan,  talk 
ing  incessantly,  and  with  hands  thrust  easily  into  his 
trousers'  pockets,  led  the  way  into  the  reading-room. 

"Hello,  Wheaton,  I  didn't  know  you  were  at  home," 
he  called  to  a  man  who  sat  reading  a  newspaper,  and 
who  now  rose  on  seeing  a  stranger  with  Earidan. 

"This  is  Mr.  Saxton,  Mr.  Wheaton." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  man  introduced  as  Wheaton.  "I 
wondered  whether  I  shouldn't  see  you  here.  Mr.  Porter 
told  me  you  had  come." 

"I've  been  bringing  Mr.  Saxton  up  to  date  in  local 
history,"  said  Earidan. 

"Chiefly  concerning  yourself,  I  suppose,"  said 
Wheaton,  with  a  smile  that  did  not  wholly  succeed  in 
being  amiable. 

"It  isn't  often  I  get  at  chance  at  a  brand  new  man," 


WARRICK  RARIDAN  21 

Raridan  ran  on.  "I've  told  the  worst  about  you,  so 
conduct  yourself  accordingly." 

"Mr.  Raridan's  worst  isn't  very  bad/'  s,aid  Saxton. 
"From  his  account  of  this  town  and  its  people,  the 
place  must  be  paradise  and  the  inhabitants  saints." 

Raridan  called  for  cigars,  but  Wheaton  declined  them. 

"Remarkable  fellow,"  said  Raridan,  busy  with  his 
match.  "Paragon  among  our  business  men ;  exemplary 
habits,  and  so  forth."  He  waved  the  smoking  match- 
stick  to  imply  virtues  in  Wheaton  which  it  was  unneces 
sary  to  mention. 

Wheaton  ignored  Raridan's  chaffing  way.  He  seemed 
very  serious,  and  had  not  much  to  say.  He  had  just 
come  home,  from  a  tedious  trip  to  the  western  part  of 
the  state,  he  said,  on  an  errand  for  his  bank.  He  was 
tall,  slim  and  dark.  There  was  a  suggestion  of  sleepy 
indifference  in  his  black  eyes,  though  he  had  a  well- 
established  reputation  for  energy  and  industry.  Saxton 
commented  to  himself  that  Wheaton's  hands  and  feet 
were  smaller  than  he  thought  becoming  in  a  man. 

"Mr.  Porter  told  me  you  were  quartered  here.  I 
hope  they  can  make  you  comfortable.  I'm  personally 
relieved  that  you  have  come.  Your  Boston  friends 
were  getting  very  impatient  with  us.  We  shall  do  all 
in  our  power  to  aid  you;  but  of  course  Mr.  Porter  has 
said  all  that  to  you."  His  smile  was  by  a  movement 
of  the  lips,  and  his  eyes  did  not  seem  to  participate  in 
it.  He  did  not  refer  again  to  possible  business  relations 
with  Saxton,  but  turned  the  conversation  into  general 
channels.  They  sat  together  for  an  hour,  Raridan,  as 
was  his  way  in  any  company,  doing  most  of  the  talking. 
They  seemed  to  have  the  club  house  to  themselves.  Now 


22  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

and  then  one  of  the  negro  servants  came  and  looked  in 
upon  them  sleepily.  A  clerk  at  the  desk  in  the  hall 
read  in  peace.  A  party  of  young  people  could  be  heard 
entering  by  the  side  door  set  apart  for  women;  and 
muffled  echoes  of  their  gaiety  reached  the  trio  in  the 
reading-room. 

"That's  back  in  the  incurables'  ward/'  said  Earidan, 
in  explanation  to  Saxton. 

"It  isn't  nice  of  you  to  speak  of  the  gentler  sex  in 
that  way/'  admonished  Wheaton. 

"Oh,  there  are  girls  and  girls/'  said  Earidan  wearily. 
"It  does  seem  to  me  that  Mabel  Margrave  is  always 
hungry.  Why  can't  she  do  her  eating  at  home?" 

"He's  simply  jealous/'  Wheaton  remarked  to  Saxton. 
"He  always  acts  that  way  when  he  hears  a  girl  in  the 
ladies'  dining-room,  and  doesn't  dare  go  back  and  break 
in  on  some  other  fellow's  party." 

"When  you  show  signs  of  mental  decay,  it's  time  for 
us  to  go  home,  Wheaton."  Earidan  held  out  his  hand 
to  Saxton.  "I'm  glad  you're  here,  and  you  may  be 
sure  we'll  try  to  make  you  like  us.  Wheaton  and  I  live 
in  a  barracks  around  the  corner,  with  a  few  other  home 
less  wanderers.  An  ill-favored  thing, — but  our  own! 
I  hope  to  see  you  there.  Don't  be  afraid  of  the  China 
man  at  the  door.  My  cell  is  up  one  flight  and  to  the 
right." 

"And  don't  overlook  me  there,"  Wheaton  interposed. 
"I  suppose  we  shall  see  you  down  town  very  often.  Mr. 
Earidan  is  the  only  man  in  Clarkson  who  has  no  visible 
means  of  support.  The  rest  of  us  are  pretty  busy;  but 
that  doesn't  mean  that  we  shan't  be  glad  to  see  you  at 
the  Clarkson  National." 


WAKBICK  EAEIDAN  23 

"You  see  how  intensely  commercial  he  is/'  said  Rari- 
dan.  "He's  talking  for  the  bank,  you  notice,  and  not 
for  himself/' 

"I'm  sure  he  means  both."  Saxton  had  followed 
them  to  the  front  door,  where  they  repeated  their  good 
nights;  he  then  climbed  slowly  to  his  room.  He  had 
never  before  met  a  man  so  volatile  and  fanciful  as 
Warrick  Earidan.  He  felt  the  warmth  and  friendliness 
of  Earidan's  nature  as  people  always  did;  Wheaton 
seemed  cold  and  dull  in  comparison.  Saxton  unpacked 
his  trunks  and  distributed  his  things  about  the  room. 
His  effects  were  simple,  as  befitted  a  man  who  was  plain 
of  mind  and  person.  He  had  collected  none  of  the 
memorabilia  which  young  men  usually  have  assembled 
at  twenty-five.  The  furnishings  of  his  dressing  table 
and  desk  were  his  own  purchases,  or  those  of  his 
sister,  who  was  the  only  woman  that  had  ever  made 
him  gifts.  Having  emptied  his  trunks  and  sent  them 
to  the  storeroom  above,  he  seated  himself  comfortably 
in  a  lounging  chair  and  smoked  a  final  pipe  before 
turning  in. 


CHAPTER  III 

SWEET  PEAS 

When  he  confided  to  John  Saxton  his  belief  that 
there  were  those  among  his  fellow  townsmen  who 
thought  him  "crooked,"  William  Porter  had  no  serious 
idea  that  such  was  the  case.  He  had,  however,  an 
impression  that  the  term  "crooked"  implied  a  high  de 
gree  of  sagacity  and  shrewdness.  He  knew  men  in  other 
cities  whose  methods  were,  to  put  it  mildly,  indirect, 
and  their  names  were  synonymous  with  success.  It 
pleased  him  to  think  that  he  was  of  their  order,  and  he 
was  rich  enough  to  indulge  this  idiosyncrasy  without 
fear  of  the  criticisms  of  his  neighbors.  It  amused  him 
to  quiz  customers  of  his  bank,  though  he  took  care  not 
to  estrange  them.  While  his  fellow  citizens  never  seri 
ously  reflected  on  his  integrity,  yet  they  did  say  that 
"Billy"  Porter  knew  his  business;  that  he  was  "on  to 
his  job" ;  or,  that  to  get  ahead  of  him  one  must  "get  up 
early  in  the  morning".  "Billy  Porter's  luck"  was  a 
significant  phrase  in  Clarkson.  Porter  had  occasionally 
scored  phenomenal  successes,  until  his  legitimate  credit 
as  a  man  of  business  was  reinforced  by  this  reputation. 
He  believed  that  he  enjoyed  the  high  favor  of  fortune, 
and  it  lent  assurance  to  his  movements. 

Porter  lived  well,  as  became  a  first  citizen  of  Clark- 
24 


SWEET  PEAS  25 

son.  His  house  stood  at  the  summit  of  a  hill  near  the 
end  of  Varney  Street,  and  the  gradual  slope  leading  up 
to  it  was  a  pretty  park,  whose  lawn  and  shrubbery- 
showed  the  intelligent  care  of  a  good  gardener.  The  dry 
air  was  still  hot  as  John  Saxton  climbed  ,the  cement  walk 
which  wound  over  the  slope  at  the  proper  degree  to 
bring  the  greatest  comfort  to  pedestrians.  The  green 
of  the  lawn  was  grateful  to  Saxton' s  eyes,  which  dwelt 
with  relief  on  the  fine  spray  of  the  rotary  sprinklers 
that  hissed  coolly  at  the  end  of  long  lines  of  hose. 
Interspersed  among  the  indigenous  scrub-oaks  were  elms, 
maples  and  cedars,  and  the  mottled  bark  of  white 
birches  showed  here  and  there.  The  lawn  was  broken 
by  beds  of  cannas,  and  it  was  evident  that  the  owner  of 
the  place  had  a  taste  for  landscape  gardening  and  spent 
his  money  generously  in  cultivating  it.  The  house  itself 
was  of  red  brick  dating  from  those  years  in  which  a 
Mansard  roof  and  a  tower  were  thought  indispensable  in 
serious  domestic  architecture.  There  was  a  broad 
veranda  on  the  river  side,  accessible  through  French 
windows  of  the  same  architectural  period. 

A  maid  admitted  Saxton  and  left  him  to  find  his  own 
way  into  the  drawing-room,  through  which  a  breeze 
was  blowing  pleasantly  from  across  the  valley.  The  ceil 
ings  in  the  house  were  high  and  the  hardwood  floors 
seemed  inconsonant  with  them  and  had  evidently  been 
added  at  a  later  date.  A  white  marble  mantel  and  the 
grate  beneath  it  were  hidden  by  palms.  Above  the 
mantel  was  a  large  mirror  framed  in  heavy  gilt.  A 
piano  formed  a  barricade  across  the  lower  end  of  the 
room.  One  wall  was  covered  with  a>  wonderful  old 
French  tapestry  depicting  a  fierce  hand-to-hand  battle 


26  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

in  which  the  warriors  and  their  horses  were  greatly 
confused. 

Saxton  sat  in  a  deep  wicker  chair,  mopping  his  fore 
head.  He  had  spent  a  busy  day,  and  it  was  with  real 
satisfaction  that  he  found  himself  in  a  cool  house  where 
the  atmosphere  of  comfort  and  good  taste  brought  ease 
to  all  his  senses.  He  had  not  expected  to  find  sro  pleasant 
a  house;  verily,  the  marks  of  philistinism  were  not 
upon  it.  It  seemed  to  him  unlikely  that  Porter  main 
tained  solitary  state  here,  and  he  wondered  who  could 
be  the  other  members  of  the  household.  The  maid 
had  disappeared  into  the  silent  depths  of  the  house 
without  waiting  for  his  name,  and  did  not  return. 
His  eyes  moved  again  in  leisurely  fashion  to  the  wall 
before  him,  and  to  the  mirror,  which  reflected  nothing 
of  his  immediate  surroundings,  but  disclosed  the  shelves 
and  books  of  a  room  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hall. 

He  was  amusing  himself  in  speculations  as  to  what 
manner  of  library  a  man  like  Porter  would  have,  and 
whether  he  read  anything  but  the  newspapers,  when  the 
shadow  of  a  young  woman  crept  into  the  mirror;  she 
stood  placing  flowers  in  a  vase  on  a  table  in  the  center 
of  the  room.  He  thought  for  a  moment  that  a  figure 
from  a  painting  had  given  a  pretty  head  and  a  pair  of 
graceful  shoulders  to  the  mirror.  In  the  room  where  he 
sat  the  frames  contained  peasants  in  sabots,  generous 
panels  of  Hudson  Eiver  landscape,  a  Detaille  and  an 
Inness.  He  changed  the  direction  of  his  eyes  to  inspect 
again  the  Brittany  girl  that  stood  looking  out  over  the 
sea  in  the  manner  of  Brittany  girls  in  pictures.  The 
girl  in  the  mirror  was  not  the  same ;  moreover,  he  could 
"tear  her  humming  softly;  her  head  moved  gracefully; 


SWEET  PEAS  27 

there  was  no  question  of  her  reality.  Her  hands  had 
brought  a  bunch  of  sweet  peas  within  the  mirror's  com 
pass,  and  were  detaching  a  part  of  them  for  the  vase  by 
which  she  stood.  She  hummed  on  in  her  absorption, 
bending  again,  so  that  Saxton  lost  sight  of  her ;  then  she 
stood  upright,  holding  the  unused  flowers  as  if  uncertain 
what  to  do  with  them.  The  head  flashed  out  of  the  mir 
ror,  which  reflected  again  only  the  library  shelves  and 
books.  Then  he  heard  a  light  step  crossing  the  hall,  and 
the  girl,  still  singing  softly  to  herself,  passed  back  of 
him  to  a  little  stand  which  stood  by  one  of  the  drawing- 
room  windows.  The  back  of  the  wicker  chair  hid  him ; 
she  was  wholly  unconscious  that  any  one  was  there.  The 
breath  of  the  sweet  peas  which  she  was  distributing 
suddenly  sweetened  the  cool  air  of  the  room.  Seeing 
that  the  girl  did  not  know  of  his  presence  in  the  house, 
and  that  she  would  certainly  discover  him  when  she 
turned  to  go,  he  rose  and  faced  her. 

"I  beg  your  pardon !" 

"Oh !"  The  sweet  peas  fell  to  the  floor,  and  the  girl 
looked  anxiously  toward  the  hall  door. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  Saxton  repeated.  "I  think — 
I  fear — I  wasn't  announced.  But  I  believe  that  Mr. 
Porter  is  expecting  me." 

"Yes?"  The  girl  looked  at  John  for  the  first  time. 
He  was  taking  the  situation  seriously,  and  was  sin 
cerely  sorry  for  having  startled  her.  His  breadth  of 
shoulders  was  impressive ;  he  was  clad  in  gray  homespun, 
and  there  seemed  to  be  a  good  deal  of  it  in  the  room. 
His  smooth-shaven  face  was  sunburned.  She  thought 
he  might  be  an  Englishman.  He  was  of  the  big  blond 
English  type  common  in  the  American  cattle  country. 


28  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"Father  will  be  here  very  soon,,  I  think."  She  moved 
toward  the  door  with  dignity,  ignoring  the  fallen  flow 
ers,  and  Saxton  stepped  forward  and  picked  them  up. 

"Allow  me."  The  girl  took  them  from  him,  a  little 
uncertainly  and  guardedly,  then  returned  to  the  vase 
and  placed  the  flowers  in  it. 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  she  said.  "I  think  I  hear 
my  father  now."  She  went  to  the  outer  door  and  opened 
it,  inclining  her  head  slightly  as  she  passed  John^  who 
also  heard  Mr.  Porter's  voice  outside.  He  was  remon 
strating  with  the  gardener  about  the  position  of  the 
sprinklers,  which  he  wished  reset  in  keeping  with  ideas 
of  his  own. 

"Well,  Evelyn?"  he  said,  as  he  came  up  the  steps. 
Saxton  could  hear  the  young  woman  making  an  ex 
planation  in  low  tones  to  her  father.  He  knew,  of 
course,  that  she  was  telling  him  that  some  one  was  wait 
ing,  and  Mr.  Porter  stood  suddenly  in  the  door  with  his 
hat  still  on  his  head. 

"Well,  this  beats  me,"  he  began  effusively,  coming 
forward  and  wringing  Saxton's  hand.  "This  beats  me ! 
I'm  not  going  to  try  to  explain.  I  simply  forgot,  that's 
all."  He  took  Saxton's  arm  and  turned  him  toward 
the  door  where  the  girl  still  stood,  smiling. 

"Evelyn,  this  is  Mr.  Saxton.  He's  come  to  dine  with 
us.  Bless  my  soul !  but  I  forgot  all  about  it.  See  here, 
Evelyn,  you've  got  to  square  this  for  me,"  he  concluded, 
and  pushed  his  hat  back  from  his  forehead  as  he  ap 
pealed  to  her. 

She  came  forward  and  shook  hands  with  Saxton. 

"I  don't  know  how  it  can  be  'squared.'    This  is  only 


SWEET  PEAS  29 

one  of  father's  lapses,  Mr.  Saxton.  You  may  be  sure 
he  didn't  mean  to  do  it." 

"No,  indeed/'  declared  Porter,  "but  I'm  ashamed  of 
myself.  Guess  I'm  losing  my  wits."  He  waved  the 
young  people  to  seats  with  his  hat,  as  if  anxious  to  have 
the  apologies  over  as  quickly  as  possible.  "Positively 
no  reflection, — no,  sir.  Why,  the  last  time  it  hap 
pened — 

"A  week  ago  to-night,"  his  daughter  interpolated. 

"The  victim  was  the  lord  mayor  of  somewhere,  who 
was  passing  through  town,  and  I  asked  him  and  his 
gang  for  dinner,  and  actually  didn't  telephone  to  the 
house  about  it  until  half -past  five  in  the  afternoon.  I'm 
losing  my  wits,  that's  all."  He  continued  to  paint  his 
social  crimes,  while  his  daughter  disappeared  to  cor 
rect  his  latest  error  by  having  a  plate  laid  for  the  unan 
nounced  guest.  When  she  returned  he  left  the  room, 
but  reappeared  at  the  lower  door  of  the  drawing-room, 
still  holding  his  hat,  and  exclaimed  sharply:  "Evelyn, 
I'm  sure  I  must  have  told  you  about  Mr.  Saxton  being 
here  when  we  were  talking  of  the  Poindexter  place  last 
night.  I  told  you  some  one  was  coming  out  to  take 
charge  of  those  things." 

"Very  well,  father,"  she  said  patiently,  turning  to 
ward  him.  He  again  vanished  into  the  hall  having,  he 
thought,  justified  himself  before  his  guest. 

"This  is  one  of  our  standing  jokes,  you  see,  and  father 
feels  that  he  must  defend  himself.  I  was  away  for  so 
long  and  father  lived  down  town  until  his  domestic  in 
stinct  has  suffered." 

"But  I'm  sure  he  hasn't  lost  his  instinct  of  hospital 
ity,"  said  Saxton. 


30  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"No;  but  it's  his  instinct  of  consideration  for  the 
housekeeper  that's  blunted."  She  was  still  smiling  over 
the  incident  in  a  way  that  had  the  effect  of  including 
Saxton  as  a  party  to  the  joke,  rather  than  as  its  victim. 
He  found  himself  feeling  altogether  comfortable  and 
was  able  to  lead  off  into  a  discussion  of  the  heat  and  of 
the  appearance  of  the  grounds,  which  he  pronounced 
charming. 

"Oh,  that's  father's  great  delight,"  she  said.  "I  tell 
him  he's  far  more  interested  in  the  grounds  than  the 
house.  He's  an  easy  prey  to  the  compilers  of  flower  cata 
logues,  and  people,  who  sell  trees  go  to  him  first;  then 
they  never  need  to  go  any  farther.  He  always  buys 
them  out!" 

They  were  touching  upon  the  beneficence  of  Arbor 
Day  when  Porter  returned  with  an  appearance  of  clean 
cuffs  and  without  his  hat,  and  launched  into  statistics 
as  to  the  number  of  trees  that  had  been  planted  in  the 
state  by  school  children  during  the  past  year.  The 
maid  came  to  announce  dinner,  and  Porter  talked  on 
as  he  led  the  way  to  the  dining-room.  As  they  were 
taking  their  seats  a  boy  of  twelve  took  the  place  opposite 
Saxton. 

"This  is  my  brother  Grant,"  said  Miss  Porter.  The 
boy  was  shy  and  silent  and  looked  frail.  The  efforts 
of  his  sister  to  bring  him  into  the  talk  were  fruitless. 
When  his  father  or  sister  spoke  to  him  it  was  with  an 
accented  kindness.  He  would  not  talk  before  a  stranger ; 
but  his  face  brightened  at  the  humor  of  the  others. 

There  was  a  round  table  very  prettily  set  with  glass 
candlesticks  at  the  four  plates  and  a,  bowl  of  sweet 
peas  in  the  center.  Porter  began  a  discussion  of  some 


SWEET  PEAS  31 

problems  relating  to  improvements  and  changes  in  the 
grounds,  talking  directly  across  to  his  daughter,  as 
she  served  the  soup.  Her  manner  with  him  was  very 
gentle.  She  added  "father"  to  most  of  her  sentences 
in  addressing  him,  and  there  was  a  kind  of  caress  in  the 
word  as  she  spoke  it.  Her  head,  whose  outlines  had 
seemed  graceful  to  Saxton  as  he  studied  them  in  the 
mirror,  was  now  disclosed  fully  in  the  soft  candle-light 
of  the  table.  She  had  a  pretty  way  of  bending  forward 
when  she  spoke  which  was  characteristic  and  quite  in 
keeping  with  the  frankness  of  her  speech;  there  was  no 
hint  of  coquetry  or  archness  about  her.  Her  eyes,  which 
Saxton  had  thought  blue  in  the  drawing-room,  were  now 
gray  by  candle-light.  She  was  very  like  her  father;  she 
had  his  clear-cut  features,  though  softened  and  refined, 
and  thoroughly  feminine.  His  eyes  were  smaller,  and 
there  was  a  quizzical,  furtive  play  of  humor  in  them, 
which  hers  lacked.  William  Porter  always  seemed  to 
be  laughing  at  you;  his  daughter  laughed  with  you. 
You  might  question  the  friendliness  of  her  father's 
quiet  joking  sometimes,  but  there  was  nothing  equivo 
cal  in  her  smile  or  speech. 

A  woman  who  is  not  too  subservient  to  fashion  may 
reveal  a  good  deal  of  herself  in  the  way  she  wears  her 
hair.  The  straight  part  in  Evelyn  Porter's  seemed 
to  be  akin  to  her  clear,  frank  eyes,  contributing  to 
an  impression  of  simplicity  and  directness.  The  waves 
came  down  upon  her  forehead  and  then  retreated 
quickly  to  each  side,  as  if  they  had  been  conscious  in 
truders  there,  and  were  only  secure  when  they  found 
refuge  in  the  knot  that  was  gathered  low  behind. 
There  was  in  her  hair  that  pretty  ripple  which  men  are 


32  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

reluctant  to  believe  is  acquired  by  processes  in  which 
nature  has  little  part.  The  result  in  Evelyn's  case  was 
to  give  the  light  a  better  playground,  and  it  caught  and 
brightened  wherever  a  ripple  held  it.  Her  arms  were 
bare  from  the  elbow  and  there  were  suppleness  and 
strength  in  their  firm  outlines;  her  hands  were  long 
and  slender  and  had  known  vigorous  service  with  racket 
and  driver. 

Porter  was  full  of  a  scheme  for  planting  a  line  of  pop 
lars  around  some  lots,,  which,,  it  seemed,  he  owned  in 
another  part  of  the  town ;  but  he  dropped  this  during  a 
prolonged  absence  of  the  waitress  from  the  room,  to  ask 
where  the  girl  had  gone  and  whether  there  was  going  to 
be  any  more  dinner. 

"It's  bad  enough,  child,  for  us  to  forget  we've  got  a 
guest  for  dinner,  but  we  needn't  rub  it  in  by  starving 
him  after  he's  at  the  table." 

"There  is  food  out  there,  father,  if  you'll  abide  in 
patience.  This  is  a  new  girl  and  she's  pretty  green. 
She  let  Mr.  Saxton  in  and  then  forgot  to  tell  anybody 
he'd  come."  She  wished  to  touch  on  this,  without  re 
curring  to  the  awkward  plight  in  which  Saxton  had  been 
placed;  and  John  now  seized  the  chance  to  minimize 
it  so  that  the  incident  might  be  closed. 

"Oh,  it  was  very  flattering  to  me !  She  left  me  alone 
with  an  air  that  implied  my  familiar  acquaintance  with 
the  house.  It  was  much  kinder  than  asking  for  cre 
dentials." 

"You're  not  hard  enough  on  these  people,  Evelyn," 
declared  Porter.  "That's  something  they  didn't  teach 
you  at  college.  If  you  let  the  impression  get  out  that 
3'0u're  easy,  you'll  never  make  a  housekeeper.  Fire 


SWEET  PEAS  33 

them !  fire  them  whenever  you  find  they're  no  good !" 
He  looked  to  Saxton  for  corroboration,  with  a  severe  air, 
as  if  this  were  something  that  masculine  minds  under 
stood  but  which  was  beyond  the  reach  of  women. 

When  all  were  served  he  grew  abstracted  as  he  ate, 
and  Saxton  appealed  to  his  hostess,  as  one  college  grad 
uate  may  appeal  to  another,  along  the  line  of  their 
college  experiences.  They  had,  it  appeared,  several 
acquaintances  in  common,  and  Saxon  recalled  that 
some  of  his  classmates  had  often  visited  the  college  in 
which  Miss  Porter  had  been  a  student;  and  a  little  of 
the  old  ache  crept  into  his  heart  as  he  remembered  the 
ways  in  which  the  social  side  of  college  life  had  meant 
so  much  less  to  him  than  to  most  of  the  men  he  knew ; 
but  as  she  talked  freely  of  her  own  experience,  he  found 
that  her  humor  was  contagious,  and  he  even  fell  so  far 
under  its  spell  as  to  recount  anecdotes  of  his  own 
student  life  in  which  his  part  had  not  been  heroic. 
Porter  came  back  occasionally  from  the  land  of  his  com 
mercial  dreams,  and  they  all  laughed  together  at  the 
climaxes.  He  presently  directed  the  talk  to  the  cattle 
business. 

"You'd  better  get  Mr.  Saxton  to  tell  you  how  much 
fun  ranching  is,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  boy,  who  at 
once  became  interested  in  Saxton. 

"I'm  going  to  be  a  ranchman,"  the  lad  declared. 
"Father's  going  to  buy  me  the  Poindexter  ranch  some 
day." 

"That's  one  of  Mr.  Saxton's  properties.  Maybe  he'd 
trade  it  to  you  for  a  tin  whistle." 

"Is  it  as  bad  as  that  ?"  asked  Saxton. 

"Just  wait  until  you  see  it.    It's  pretty  bad." 


34  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"The  house  must  have  been  charming/'  said  Miss 
Porter. 

"And  that's  about  all  it  was,"  replied  her  father. 

The  dinner  ended  with  a  salad.  This  was  not  an 
incident  but  an  event.  The  highest  note  of  civiliza 
tion  is  struck  when  a  salad  is  dressed  by  a  master  of 
the  chemistry  of  gastronomy.  The  clumsy  and  unwor 
thy  hesitate  in  the  performance  of  this  sacred  rite,  and 
are  never  sure  of  their  proportions;  the  oil  refuses 
intimacy  with  the  vinegar,  and  sulks  and  selfishly  cre 
ates  little  yellow  isles  for  itself  in  the  estranging  sea 
of  acid.  The  salt  becomes  indissoluble  and  the  paprika 
is  irrecoverable  flotsam.  The  clove  of  garlic,  always  re 
calcitrant  under  clumsy  handling,  refuses  to  impart  the 
merest  hint  of  its  wild  tang,  but  the  visible  and  tangible 
world  reeks  with  it.  It  was  a  joy  to  John  Saxton  to 
see  the  deftness  with  which  Evelyn  Porter  performed 
her  miracle;  he  did  not  know  much  about  girls,  but  he 
surmised  that  a  girl  who  composed  a  salad  dressing 
with  such  certainty  did  many  things  gracefully  and 
well.  There  were  no  false  starts,  no  "ohs"  of  regret 
and  appeal,  no  questions  of  quantity.  The  light  struck 
goldenly  on  the  result  as  she  poured  it  finally  upon 
the  crisply-curling  lettuce  leaves  which  showed  dis 
creetly  over  the  edge  of  a  deep  Doulton  bowl.  It  seemed 
to  him  high  treason  that  his  host  should  decline  the 
dressing  thus  produ'ced  by  an  art  which  realized  the 
dreams  of  alchemy,  and  should  pour  vinegar  from  the 
cruet  with  his  own  hand  upon  the  helpless  leaves. 

Porter  demanded  cigars  before  the  others  had  finished, 
and  smoked  over  his  coffee.  He  was  in  a  hurry  to 
leave,  and  at  the  earliest  possible  moment  led  the  way  to 


SWEET  PEAS  35 

the  veranda,  picking  up  his  hat  as  he  stepped  blithely, 
along. 

It  was  warmer  outside  than  in,  but  Porter  pretended 
that  it  was  pleasanter  out  of  doors,  and  insisted  that 
there  was  always  a  breeze  on  the  hill  at  night.  He  ran. 
on  in  drawling  monologue  about  the  weather  conditions, 
and  how  much  cooler  it  was  in  Clarkson  than  at  the 
summer  places  which  people  foolishly  sought  at  the  ex 
pense  of  home  comforts.  He  made  his  shy  boy  report 
his  experiences  of  the  day.  In  addressing  the  lad  he 
fell  into  his  quizzical  manner,  but  the  boy  understood 
it  and  yielded  to  it  with  the  same  submission  that  his 
father's  customers  adopted  when  they  sought  a  loan 
and  knew  that  Porter  must  prod  them  with  immaterial 
questions,  and  irritate  them  with  petty  ironies,  before 
he  finally  scribbled  his  initials  in  the  corner  of  their 
notes  and  passed  them  over  to  the  discount  clerk. 

Earidan  appeared  at  the  step  presently.  They  all 
rose  as  he  came  up,  and  he  said  to  Saxton  as  he  shook 
hands  with  him  last:  "I  see  you've  found  the  way  to 
headquarters.  All  roads  lead  up  to  this  Alpine  height, — 
and  I  fear — I  fear — that  all^  roads  lead  down  again," 
he  added,  with  a  doleful  sigh,  and  laughed.  He  drew 
out  his  cigarettes  and  began  making  himself  greatly  at 
home.  He  assured  Mr.  Porter,  with  amiable  inso 
lence,  that  his  veranda  chairs  were  the  most  uncom 
fortable  ones  he  knew,  and  went  to  fetch  himself  a  bet 
ter  seat  from  the  hall. 

"Mr.  Earidan  likes  to  be  comfortable,"  said  Miss 
Porter  in  his  absence. 

"But  he  finds  pleasure  in  making  others  comfortable, 
too,"  Saxton  ventured. 


36  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"Oh,  he's  the  very  kindest  of  men,"  Miss  Porter 
affirmed. 

"What  a  nuisance  you  are,  Warry,"  said  Porter,  as 
the  young  man  fussed  about  to  find  a  place  for  his  chair. 
"We  were  all  very  easy  here  till  you  came.  Even  the 
breeze  has  died  out." 

"Father  insists  that  there  has  been  a  breeze/'  said 
Miss  Porter.  "But  it  really  has  gone." 

(CEt  tu,  Brute?  What  we  ought  to  do,  Mr.  Porter," 
said  Earidan,  who  had  at  last  settled  himself,  "is  to 
organize  a  company  to  supply  breezes.  'The  Clarkson 
Breeze  Company,  Limited/  I  can  see  the  name  on  the 
factory  now,  in  my  mind's  eye.  We'd  get  up  an  ice  trust 
first,  then  bring  in  the  ice  cream  people  and  make  vast 
fortunes  out  of  it,  besides  becoming  benefactors  of  our 
kind.  The  ice  and  the  ice  cream  would  pay  for  the  cold 
air;  our  cold  air  service  would  bring  a  clear  profit. 
We'd  guarantee  a  temperature  through  the  summer 
months  of,  say,  seventy  degrees." 

"Then,"  Porter  drawled,  "the  next  thing  would  be 
to  get  the  doctors  in,  for  a  pneumonia  branch ;  and  after 
that  the  undertakers  would  demand  admission,  and  then 
the  tombstone  people.  You're  a  bright  young  man, 
Warry.  I  heard  you  stringing  that  Englishman  at  the 
club  the  other  day  about  your  scheme  for  piping  water 
from  the  Atlantic  Ocean  to  irrigate  the  American  desert, 
and  he  thought  you  meant  it." 

"Then  we'll  all  suffer,"  Miss  Porter  declared,  "for 
he'll  go  home  and  put  it  in  a  book,  and  there'll  be  no 
end  of  it." 

Earidan  was  in  gay  spirits.  He  had  come  from  a  call 
on  a  young  married  couple  who  had  just  gone  to  house- 


SWEET  PEAS  37 

keeping.  He  had  met  there  a  notoriously  awkward 
young  man,  who  moved  through  Clarkson  houses  leaving 
ruin  in  his  wake. 

"There  ought  to  be  some  way  of  insuring  against 
Whitely,"  said  Raridan,  musingly.  "Perhaps  a  social 
casualty  company  could  be  formed  to  protect  people 
from  his  depredations.  You  know,  Mr.  Saxton,  they've 
really  had  to  cut  him  off  from  refreshments  at  parties, — 
he  was  always  spilling  salads  on  the  most  expensive 
gowns  in  town.  And  these  poor  young  married  things, 
with  their  wedding  loot  huddled  about  them  in  their 
little  parlors!  There  is  a  delightful  mathematical 
nicety  in  the  way  he  sweeps  a  tea  table  with  his  coat 
tails.  He  never  leaves  enough  for  a  sample.  But  this 
was  the  worst!  You  know  that  polar  bear  skin  that 
Mamie  Shepard  got  for  a  wedding  present;  well,  it 
makes  her  house  look  like  a  menagerie.  Whitely  was 
backing  out — a  thing  I've  begged  him  never  to  try — 
and  got  mixed  up  with  the  head  of  that  monster ;  kicked 
all  the  teeth  out,  started  to  fall,  gathered  in  the  hat 
rack,  broke  the  glass  out  of  it,  and  before  Shepard  could 
head  him  off,  he  pulled  down  the  front  door  shade." 

"But  Mr.  Whitely  sings  beautifully,"  urged  Miss 
Porter. 

"He'd  have  to,"  said  Warry,  "with  those  feet." 

"You  needn't  mind  what  Raridan  says,"  Mr.  Porter 
remarked.  "He's  very  unreliable." 

"The  office  of  social  censor  is  always  an  ungrateful 
one,"  Raridan  returned,  dolefully.  "But  I  really  don't 
know  what  you'd  do  without  me  here." 

"I  notice  that  you  never  give  us  a  chance  to  try,"  said 
Mr.  Porter,  dryly. 


38  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"That  is  the  unkindest  cut;  and  in  the  shadow  of 
your  own  house,  too/' 

Saxton  got  up  to  go  presently  and  Earidan  rose  with 
him,  declaring  that  they  had  been  terribly  severe  and 
that  he  could  not  be  left  alone  with  them. 

"I  hope  you'll  overlook  that  little  slip  of  mine,"  said 
Mr.  Porter,  as  he  shook  hands  with  Saxton.  "You'd 
better  not  tell  Earidan  about  it.  It  would  be  terrible 
ammunition  in  his  hands." 

"And  we'll  all  do  better  next  time,"  said  Miss  Por 
ter;  "so  do  come  again  to  show  that  you  don't  treasure 
it  against  us." 

"I  don't  know  that  anything's  happened,"  pleaded 
John,  "except  that  I've  had  a  remarkably  good  time." 

"I  fear  that's  more  generous  than  just;  but  the  next 
time  I  hope  the  maid  will  do  better." 

"And  next  time  I  hope  I  shan't  frighten  you,"  Saxton 
went  on.  Earidan  and  Mr.  Porter  had  walked  down  the 
long  veranda  to  the  steps,  and  Saxton  and  Miss  Porter 
were  following. 

"Oh,  but  you  didn't!"  the  girl  laughed  at  him. 

"But  you  dropped  the  flowers — " 

"But  you  shouldn't  have  noticed !    It  wasn't  gallant !" 

They  had  reached  the  others,  and  Earidan  broke  in 
with  his  good  night,  and  he  and  Saxton  went  down  the 
walk  together. 

"They  seem  to  have  struck  up  an  acquaintance,"  ob 
served  Mr.  Porter,  settling  himself  to  a  fresh  cigar. 

"Mr.  Saxton  is  very  nice,"  said  Evelyn. 

"Oh,  he's  all  right,"  said  her  father,  easily. 


CHAPTEE  IV 


John  Saxton  trotted  his  pony  through  a  broken  gate 
into  a  great  yard  that  had  once  been  sown  in  blue  grass, 
and  at  the  center  of  which  lay  the  crumbled  ruins 
of  a  fountain.  This  was  clearly  no  ordinary  establish 
ment,  as  he  had  been  warned,  and  he  was  uncertain  how 
to  hail  it.  However,  before  he  could  make  his  presence 
known,  a  frowsy  man  in  corduroy  emerged  from  the 
great  front  door  and  came  toward  him. 

"My  name's  Saxton,  and  you  must  be  Snyder." 

"Correct,"  said  the  main  and  they  shook  hands. 

"Going  to  stay  a  while  ?" 

"A  day  or  two."  John  threw  down  the  slicker  in 
which  he  had  wrapped  a  few  articles  from  his  bag  at 
Great  Eiver,  the  'nearest  railway  station. 

"I  got  your  letter  all  right,"  said  Snyder.  "Walk  in 
and  help  yourself."  He  led  the  pony  toward  the  out 
buildings,  while  Saxton  filled  his  pipe  and  viewed  the 
pile  before  him  with  interest.  He  had  been  making  a 
careful  inspection  of  all  the  properties  that  had  fallen 
to  his  care.  This  had  necessitated  a  good  deal  of  travel 
ing.  He  had  begun  in  Colorado  and  worked  eastward, 
going  slowly,  and  getting  the  best  advice  obtainable  as 
to  the  value  of  his  principals'  holdings.  Much  of  their 

39 


40  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

property  was  practically  worthless.  Title  had  been 
gained  under  foreclosure  to  vast  areas  which  had  no 
value.  A  waterworks  plant  stood  in  the  prairie  where 
there  had  once  been  a  Kansas  town.  The  place  was  de 
populated  and  the  smokestack  stood  as  a  monument  to 
blighted  hopes.  Eanch  houses  were  inhabited  by  squat 
ters,  who  had  not  been  on  his  books  at  all,  and  who 
paid  no  tribute  to  Boston.  He  was  viewed  with  suspi 
cion  by  these  tenants,  and  on  inquiry  at  the  county  seats, 
he  found  generally  that  they  were  lawless  men,  and  that 
it  would  be  better  for  him  to  let  them  alone.  It  was 
patent  that  they  would  not  pay  rent,  and  to  eject  them 
merely  in  the  maintenance  of  a  principle  involved  use 
less  expense  and  violence. 

"This  certainly  beats  them  all,"  Saxton  muttered 
aloud. 

He  had  reached  in  his  itinerary  what  his  papers 
called  the  Poindexter  property.  He  had  found  that 
the  place  was  famous  throughout  this  part  of  the 
country  for  the  idiosyncrasies  of  its  sometime  owners, 
three  young  men  who  had  come  out  of  the  East  to  show 
how  the  cattle  business  should  be  managed.  They  had 
secured  an  immense  acreage  and  built  a  stone  ranch 
house  whose  curious  architecture  imparted  to  the 
Platte  Valley  a  touch  of  medievalism  that  was  little 
appreciated  by  the  neighboring  cattlemen.  One  of 
the  owners,  a  Philadelphian  named  Poindexter,  who 
had  a  weakness  for  architecture  and  had  studied  the 
subject  briefly  at  his  university,  contributed  the  build 
ings  and  his  two  associates  bought  the  cattle.  There 
were  one  thousand  acres  of  rolling  pasture  here, 
much  of  it  lying  along  the  river,  and  a  practical  man 


AT  POIJSTDEXTEB'S  41 

could  hardly  have  failed  to  succeed;  but  theft,  disease 
in  the  herd  and  inexperience  in  buying  and  selling,  had 
wrought  the  ranchmen's  destruction.  Before  their 
money  was  exhausted,  Poindexter  and  his  associates  lived 
in  considerable  state,  and  entertained  the  friends  who 
came  to  see  them  according  to  the  best  usages  of  Eastern 
country  life  within,  and  their  o^vn  mild  approximation 
of  Western  life  without.  Tom  Poindexter's  preceptor 
in  architecture,  an  elderly  gentleman  with  a  sense  of 
humor,  had  found  a  pleasure  which  he  hardly  dared 
to  express  in  the  medieval  tone  of  the  house  and  build 
ings. 

"All  you  need,  Tom,"  he  said,  "to  make  the  thing 
complete,  is  a  drawbridge  and  a  moat.  The  possibilities 
are  great  in  the  light  of  modern  improvements  in  such 
things.  An  electric  drawbridge,  operated  solely  by 
switches  and  buttons,  would  be  worth  while."  The 
folly  of  man  seems  to  express  itself  naturally  in  the 
habitations  which  he  builds  for  himself;  the  folly  of 
Tom  Poindexter  had  been  of  huge  dimensions  and  he 
had  built  a  fairly  permanent  monument  to  it.  He  and 
his  asssociates  began  with  an  ambition  to  give  tone  to 
the  cattle  business,  and  if  novel  ideas  could  have  saved 
them,  they  would  not  have  failed.  One  of  their  happy 
notions  was  to  use  Poindexter's  coat  of  arms  as  a  brand, 
and  this  was  only  abandoned  when  their  foreman  de 
clared  that  no  calf  so  elaborately  marked  could  live. 
They  finally  devised  an  insignium  consisting  of  the 
Greek  Omega  in  a  circle  of  stars. 

"There's  a  remnant  of  the  Poindexter  herd  out  there 
somewhere,"  Wheaton  had  said  to  Saxton.  "The  fellow 
Snyder,  that  I  put  in  as  a  caretaker,  ought  to  have 


42  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

gathered  up  the  loose  cattle  by  this  time;  that's  what  I 
told  him  to  do  when  I  put  him  there." 

Saxton  turned  and  looked  out  over  the  rolling  plain. 
A  few  rods  away  lay  the  river,  and  where  it  curved 
nearest  the  house  stood  a  group  of  cottonwoods,  like 
sentinels  drawn  together  for  colloquy.  Scattered  here 
and  there  over  the  plain  were  straggling  herds.  On  a 
far  crest  of  the  rolling  pastures  a  lonely  horseman, 
paused,  sharply  outlined  for  a  moment  against  the  sky ; 
in  another  direction,  a  blur  drew  his  eyes  to  where  a 
group  of  the  black  Polled  Angus  cattle  grazed,  giving 
the  one  blot  of  deep  color  to  the  plain. 

Snyder  reappeared,  and  Saxton  followed  him  into  the 
house. 

"It  isn't  haunted  or  anything  like  that  ?"  John  asked, 
glancing  over  the  long  hall. 

"No.  They  have  a  joke  about  that  at  Great  River. 
They  say  the  only  reason  is  that  there  ain't  any  idiot 
ghosts." 

There  was  much  in  the  place  to  appeal  to  Saxton's 
quiet  humor.  The  house  was  two  stories  high  and  there 
was  a  great  hall,  with  an  immense  fireplace  at  one  end. 
The  sleeping  rooms  opened  on  a  gallery  above  the  hall. 
An  effort  had  been  made  to  give  the  house  the  appear 
ance  of  Western  wildness  by  introducing  a  great  abun 
dance  of  skins  of  wild  beasts, — a  highly  dishonest  bit 
of  decorating,  for  they  had  been  bought  in  Chicago. 
How  else,  indeed,  would  skins  of  German  boars  and 
Polar  bears  be  found  in  a  ranch  house  on  the  Platte 
River !  "Under  one  wing  of  the  stairway,  which  divided 
to  left  and  right  at  the  center  of  the  hall,  was  the 
dining-room ;  under  the  other  was  the  ranch  office. 


AT  POINDEXTEK'S  43 

"Those  fellows  thought  a  good  deal  of  their  stom 
achs,"  said  Snyder,  as  Saxton  opened  and  shut  the 
empty  drawers  of  the  sideboard,  which  had  been  built 
into  one  end  of  the  western  wall  of  the  room,  in  such 
a  manner  that  a  pane  of  glass,  instead  of  a  mirror, 
filled  the  center.  The  intention  of  this  was  obviously 
to  utilize  the  sunset  for  decorative  purposes,  &nd  Sax- 
ton  chuckled  as  he  comprehended  the  idea. 

"I  suppose  our  mortgage  covers  the  sunset,  too,"  he 
said.  Nearly  every  portable  thing  of  value  had  been  re 
moved,  and  evidently  in  haste ;  but  the  heavy  oak  chairs 
and  the  table  remained.  Snyder  did  his  own  modest 
cooking  in  the  kitchen,  which  was  in  great  disorder. 
The  floor  of  the  office  was  littered  with  scraps  of  paper. 
The  original  tenants  had  evidently  made  a  quick  settle 
ment  of  their  business  affairs  before  leaving.  Snyder 
slept  here ;  his  blanket  lay  in  a  heap  on  the  long  bench 
that  was  built  into  one  side  of  the  room,  and  a  bat 
tered  valise  otherwise  marked  it  as  his  lodging  place. 
Saxton  viewed  the  room  with  disgust;  it  was  more  like 
a  kennel  than  a  bedroom.  His  foot  struck  something 
on  the  floor;  it  was  a  silver  letter-seal  bearing  the 
peculiar  Poindexter  brand,  and  he  thrust  it  into  his 
pocket  with  a  laugh. 

"My  ranching  wasn't  so  bad  after  all,"  he  muttered. 

"What's  that?"  asked  Snyder,  who  was  stolidly  fol 
lowing  him  about. 

"Nothing.  If  you  have  a  pony  we'll  take  a  ride  around 
the  fences." 

They  spent  the  day  in  the  saddle  riding  over  the  range. 
The  ridiculous  character  of  the  Poindexter  undertaking 
could  not  spoil  the  real  value  of  the  land.  There  was, 


44  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

Saxton  could  see,  the  making  here  of  a  great  farming 
property ;  he  felt  his  old  interest  in  outdoor  life  quicken 
ing  as  he  rode  back  to  the  house  in  the  evening. 

Snyder  cooked  supper  for  both  of  them,,  while  Saxton 
repaired  a  decrepit  windmill  which  had  been  designed 
to  supply  the  house  with  water.  He  had  formed  a  poor 
opinion  of  the  caretaker,  who  seemed  to  know  nothing 
of  the  property  and  who  had,  as  far  as  he  could  see,  no 
well  defined  duties.  The  man  struck  him  as  an  odd 
person  for  the  bank  to  have  chosen  to  be  the  custodian 
of  a  ranch  property.  There  was  nothing  for  any  one  to 
do  unless  the  range  were  again  stocked  and  cattle  raising 
undertaken  as  a  serious  business.  Saxton  was  used  to 
rough  men  and  their  ways.  He  had  a  happy  faculty  of 
adapting  himself  to  the  conversational  capacities  of 
illiterate  men,  and  enjoyed  drawing  them  out  and  getting 
their  point  of  view;  but  Snyder's  was  not  a  visage  that 
inspired  confidence.  He  had  a  great  shock  of  black  hair 
and  a  scraggy  beard.  He  lacked  an  eye,  and  he  had  a 
habit  of  drawing  his  head  around  in  order  to  accom 
modate  his  remaining  orb  to  any  necessity.  He  did  this 
with  an  insinuating  kind  of  deliberation  that  became 
tiresome  in  a  long  interview. 

"This  place  is  too  fancy  to  be  of  much  use,"  the  man 
vouchsafed,  puffing  at  his  pipe.  "You  may  find  some 
dude  that  wants  to  plant  money  where  another  dude  has 
dug  the  first  hole ;  but  I  reckon  you'll  have  a  hard  time 
catching  him.  A  real  cattleman  wouldn't  care  for  all 
this  house.  -It  might  be  made  into  a  stable,  but  a 
horse  would  look  ridiculous  in  here.  You  might  have 
a  corn  crib  made  out  of  it;  or  it  would  do  for  a  hotel 
if  you  could  get  dudes  to  spend  the  summer  here ;  but  I 


AT  POINDEXTER'S  45 

reckon  it's  a  little  hot  out  here  for  summer  boarders." 

"The  only  real  value  is  in  the  land/'  said  Saxton. 
"I'm  told  there's  no  better  on  the  river.  The  house  is  a 
handicap,  or  would  be  so  regarded  by  the  kind  of  men 
who  make  money  out  of  cattle.  Have  you  ever  tried 
rounding  up  the  cattle  that  strayed  through  the  fences? 
The  Poindexter  crowd  must  have  branded  their  last 
calves  about  two  years  ago.  Assuming  that  only  a  part 
of  them  was  sold  or  run  off,  there  ought  to  be  some  two- 
year-olds  still  loose  in  this  country  and  they'd  be  worth 
finding." 

Snyder  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  snorted. 
"Yer  jokin'  I  guess.  These  fellers  around  here  are  good 
fellers,  and  all  that,  but  I  guess  they  don't  give  any 
thing  back.  I  guess  we  ain't  got  any  cattle  coming  to 
us." 

"You  think  you'd  rather  not  try  it?" 

"Not  much!"  was  the  expressive  reply.  The  fellow 
smoked  slowly,  bringing  his  eye  into  position  to  see  how 
Saxton  had  taken  his  answer. 

John  was  refilling  his  own  pipe  and  did  not  look  up. 

"Who've  you  been  reporting  to,  Snyder  ?" 

"How's  that?" 

"Who  have  you  been  considering  yourself  responsible 
to?" 

"Well,  Jim  Wheaton  at  the  Clarkson  National  hired 
me,  and  I  reckon  I'd  report  to  him  if  I  reported  to  any 
body.  But  if  you're  going  to  run  this  shebang  and  want 
to  be  reported  to,  I  guess  I  can  report  to  you."  He 
brought  his  turret  around  again  and  Saxton  this  time 
met  his  eye. 

"I  want  you  to  report  to  me,"  said  John  quietly.    "In 


46  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

the  first  place  I  want  the  house  and  the  other  buildings 
cleaned  out.  After  that  the  fences  must  be  put  in  shape. 
And  then  we'll  see  if  we  can't  find  some  of  our  cows. 
You  can't  tell ;  we  may  open  up  a  real  ranch  here  and 
go  into  business." 

Snyder  was  sprawling  at  his  ease  in  a  Morris  chair, 
and  had  placed  his  feet  on  a  barrel.  He  did  not  seem 
interested  in  the  activities  hinted  at. 

"Well,  if  you're  the  boss  I'll  do  it  your  way.  I  got 
along  all  right  with  Wheaton." 

He  did  not  say  whether  he  intended  to  submit  to 
authority  or  not,  and  Saxton  dropped  the  discussion. 
John  rose  and  found  a  candle  with  which  he  lighted 
himself  to  bed  in  one  of  the  rooms  above.  The  whole 
place  was  dirty  and  desolate.  The  house  had  never  been 
filled  save  once,  and  that  was  on  the  occasion  of  a  house- 
warming  which  Poindexter  and  his  fellows  had  given 
when  they  first  took  possession.  One  of  their  friends 
had  chartered  a  private  car  and  had  brought  out  a  party 
of  young  men  and  women,  who  had  enlivened  the  house 
for  a  few  days;  but  since  then  no  woman  had  entered 
the  place.  In  the  Poindexter  days  it  had  been  care 
fully  kept,  but  now  it  was  in  a  sorry  plight.  There  had 
been  a  whole  year  of  neglect  and  vacancy,  in  which  the 
house  had  been  used  as  a  meeting  place  for  the  wilder 
spirits  of  the  neighborhood,  who  had  not  hesitated  to 
carry  off  whatever  pleased  their  fancy  and  could  be  put 
on  the  back  of  a  horse.  Saxton  chose  for  himself  the 
least  disorderly  of  the  rooms,  in  which  the  furniture 
was  whole,  and  where  there  were  even  a  few  books 
lying  about.  He  determined  to  leave  for  Clarkson 
the  following  morning,  and  formulated  in  his  mind  the 


AT  POINDEXTE-irS  47 

result  of  his  journey  and  plans  for  the  future  of  the 
incongruous  combination  of  properties  that  had  been 
entrusted  to  him.  He  sat  for  an  hour  looking  out  over 
the  moon-lit  valley.  He  followed  the  long  sweep  of  the 
plain,  through  which  he  could  see  for  miles  the  bright 
ribbon  of  the  river.  A  train  of  cars  rumbled  far  away, 
on  the  iron  trail  between  the  two  oceans,  intensifying 
the  loneliness  of  the  strange  house. 

"I  seem  to  find  only  the  lonely  places,"  he  said  aloud, 
setting  his  teeth  hard  into  his  pipe. 

In  the  morning  he  ate  the  breakfast  of  coffee,  hard 
tack  and  bacon  which  Snyder  prepared. 

"I  guess  you  want  me  to  hustle  things  up  a  little," 
said  Snyder,  more  amiably  than  on  the  day  before. 
He  turned  his  one  eye  and  his  grin  on  Saxton,  wh'o 
merely  said  that  matters  must  take  a  new  turn,  and 
that  if  a  ranch  could  be  made  out  of  the  place  there  was 
no  better  time  to  begin  than  the  present.  He  had  not 
formulated  plans  for  the  future,  and  could  not  do  so 
without  the  consent  and  approval  of  his  principals ;  but 
he  meant  to  put  the  property  in  as  good  condition  as 
possible  without  waiting  for  instructions.  Snyder  rode 
with  him  to  the  railway  station. 

"Give  my  regards  to  Mr.  Wheaton,"  he  said,  as  Sax- 
ton  swung  himself  into  the  train.  "You'll  find  me 
here  at  the  old  stand  when  you  come  back." 

"A  queer  customer  and  undoubtedly  a  bad  lot,"  was 
Saxton's  reflection. 

When  Saxton  had  written  out  the  report  of  his  trip 
he  took  it  to  Wheaton,  to  get  his  suggestions  before  for 
warding  it  to  Boston.  He  looked  upon  the  cashier  as 
his  predecessor,  and  wished  to  avail  himself  of  Wheaton's 


48  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

knowledge  of  the  local  conditions  affecting  the  several 
properties  that  had  now  passed  to  his  care.  Wheaton 
undoubtedly  wished  to  be  of  assistance,  and  in  their 
discussion  of  the  report,  the  cashier  made  many  sugges 
tions  of  value,  of  which  Saxton  was  glad  to  avail  him 
self. 

"As  to  the  Poindexter  place/'  said  Saxton  finally, 
"I've  been  advertising  it  for  sale  in  the  hope  of  finding 
a  buyer,  but  without  results.  The  people  at  headquar 
ters  can't  bother  about  the  details  of  these  things,  but 
I'm  blessed  if  I  can  see  why  we  should  maintain  a  care 
taker.  There's  nothing  there  to  take  care  of.  That 
house  is  worse  than  useless.  I'm  going  back  in  a  few 
days  to  see  if  I  can't  coax  home  some  of  the  cattle  we're 
entitled  to ;  they  must  be  wandering  over  the  country, — 
if  they  haven't  been  rustled,  and  then  I  suppose  we  may 
as  well  dispense  with  Snyder." 

He  had  used  the  plural  pronoun  out  of  courtesy  to 
Wheaton,  wishing  him  to  feel  that  his  sanction  was 
asked  in  any  changes  that  were  made. 

"I  don't  see  that  there's  anything  else  to  do,"  Wheaton 
answered.  "I've  been  to  the  ranch,  and  there's  little 
personal  property  there  worth  caring  for.  That  man 
Snyder  came  along  one  day  and  asked  for  a  job  and  I 
sent  him  out  there  thinking  he'd  keep  things  in  order 
until  the  Trust  Company  sent  its  own  representative 
here." 

There  were  times  when  Wheaton's  black  eyes  con 
tracted  curiously,  and  this  was  one  of  the  times. 

"I  don't  like  discharging  a  man  that  you've  em 
ployed,"  Saxton  replied. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right.    You  can't  keep  him  if  he  per- 


AT  POIXDEXTEi: '-  49 

forms  no  service.  Don't  trouble  about  him  on  my  ac 
count.  How  soon  are  you  going  back  there?" 

"Xext  week  some  time." 

"Traveling  about  the  country  isn't  much  fun/*' 
Wheaton  said,  sympathetically. 

"Oh,  I  rather  like  it,"  replied  Saxton,  putting  on  his 
hat. 

Saxton  was  not  surprised  when  he  returned  to  the 
ranch  to  find  that  Snyder  had  made  no  effort  to  obey 
his  instructions.  He  made  his  visit  unexpectedly,  leav 
ing  the  train  at  Great  Eiver,  where  he  secured  a  horse 
and  rode  over  to  the  ranch.  He  reached  the  house  in 
the  middle  of  the  morning  and  found  the  front  door 
bolted  and  barred  on  the  inside.  After  much  pounding 
he  succeeded  in  bringing  Snyder  to  the  door,  evidently 
both  surprised  and  displeased  at  his  interruption. 

"Howdy,  boss,"  was  the  salutation  of  the  frowsy 
custodian;  "I  wasn't  feeling  just  right  to-day  and  was 
takin'  a  little  nap." 

The  great  hall  showed  signs  of  a  carousal.  The  dirt 
had  increased  since  Saxton's  first  appearance.  Empty 
bottles  that  had  been  doing  service  as  candlesticks  stood 
in  their  greasy  shrouds  on  the  table.  Saxton  sat  down  on 
a  keg,  which  had  evidently  been  recently  emptied,  and 
lighted  a  pipe.  He  resolved  to  make  quick  work  of 
Snyder. 

"How  many  cattle  have  you  rounded  up  since  I  was 
here?"  he  demanded. 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth,"  began  Snyder,  "there  ain't 
been  much  time  for  doing  that  since  you  was  here." 

"Xo;  I  suppose  you  were  busy  mending  fences  and 
cleaning  house.  Now  you  have  been  drawing  forty  dol- 


50  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

lars  a  month  for  doing  nothing.  I'll  treat  you  better 
than  you  deserve  and  give  you  ten  dollars  bonus  to  get 
out.  I  believe  the  pony  in  the  corral  belongs  to  you. 
We'll  let  it  go  at  that.  Here's  your  money." 

"Well,  I  guess  as  Mr.  Wheaton  hired  me,  he'd  better 
fire  me/'  the  fellow  began,  bringing  his  eye  to  bear  upon 
Saxton. 

"Yes,  I  spoke  to  Mr.  Wheaton  about  you.  He  under 
stands  that  you're  to  go." 

"He  does,  does  he  ?"  Snyder  replied  with  a  sneer.  "He 
must  have  forgot  that  I  had  an  arrangement  with  him 
by  the  year." 

"Well,  it's  all  off,"  said  Saxton,  rising.  He  began 
throwing  open  the  windows  and  doors  to  let  in  fresh 
air,  for  the  place  was  foul  with  the  stale  fumes  of 
whisky  and  tobacco. 

"Well,  I  guess  I'll  have  to  see  Mr.  Wheaton,"  Snyder 
retorted,  finding  that  Saxton  was  paying  no  further 
attention  to  him.  He  collected  his  few  belongings, 
watching  in  astonishment  the  violence  with  which 
Saxton  was  gathering  up  and  disposing  of  rubbish. 

"Going  to  clean  up  a  little  ?"  he  asked,  with  his  leer. 

"No,  I'm  just  exercising  for  fun,"  replied  Saxton. 
"If  you're  ready,  you'd  better  take  your  pony  and  skip." 

Snyder  growled  his  resentment  and  moved  toward  the 
door  with  a  bundle  under  his  arm  and  a  saddle  and 
bridle  thrown  over  his  shoulder. 

"I'll  be  up  town  to  see  Mr.  Wheaton  in  a  day  or  two," 
he  declared,  as  he  slouched  through  the  door. 

"He  seems  to  be  more  interested  in  Wheaton  than 
Wheaton  is  in  him,"  observed  Saxton  to  himself. 

Saxton  spent  a  week  at  Great  Elver.     He  hired  a 


AT  POINDEXTEB'S  51 

man  to  repair  fences  and  put  the  house  in  order.  He 
visited  several  of  the  large  ranch  owners  and  asked 
them  for  aid  in  picking  out  the  scattered  remnants  of 
the  Poindexter  herd.  Nearly  all  of  them  volunteered 
to  help,  with  the  result  that  he  collected  about  one  hun 
dred  cattle  and  sold  them  at  Great  Eiver  for  cash.  He 
expected  to  see  or  hear  of  Snyder  in  the  town  but  the 
fellow  had  disappeared. 

The  fact  was  that  Snyder  had  ridden  over  to  the  next 
station  beyond  Great  Eiver  for  his  spree,  that  place 
being  to  his  liking  because  it  was  beyond  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  sheriff  whose  headquarters  were  maintained  at 
Great  Eiver, — an  official  who  took  his  office  seriously,  and 
who  had  warned  Snyder  that  his  latest  offense — getting 
drunk  and  smashing  a  saloon  sideboard — must  not  be 
repeated.  After  he  had  been  satisfactorily  drunk  for 
a  week  and  had  gambled  away  such  of  his  fortune  as 
the  saloonkeeper  had  not  acquired  in  direct  course  of 
commerce,  Snyder  came  to  himself  sufficiently  to  send 
a  telegram.  Then  he  sat  down  to  wait,  with  something 
of  the  ease  of  spirit  with  which  an  honest  man  sends 
forth  a  sight  draft  for  collection  from  a  town  where 
he  is  a  stranger,  and  awaits  returns  in  the  full  enjoy 
ment  of  the  comforts  of  his  inn. 

On  the  third  day,  receiving  no  message  from  the  out 
side  world,  Snyder  sold  his  pony  and  took  the  train  for 
Clarkson. 


CHAPTER  Y 

DEBATABLE    QUESTIONS 

Evelyn  Porter  had  come  home  in  June  to  take  her 
place  as  mistress  of  her  father's  house.  The  fact  that 
she  alone  of  the  girls  belonging  to  families  of  position 
in  the  town  had  gone  to  college  had  set  her  a  little  apart 
from  the  others.  During  her  four  years  at  Smith  she 
had  evinced  no  unusual  interest  in  acquiring  knowl 
edge;  she  was  a  fair  student  only  and  had  been  gradu 
ated  without  honors  save  those  which  her  class  had 
admiringly  bestowed  on  her.  She  had  entered  into 
social  and  athletic  diversions  with  zest  and  had  been 
much  more  popular  with  her  fellow  students  than  with 
the  faculty.  She  brought  home  no  ambition  save  to 
make  her  father's  home  as  comfortable  as  possible. 
She  said  to  herself  that  she  would  keep  up  her  French 
and  German,  and  straightway  put  books  within  reach 
to  this  end.  She  had  looked  with  wonder  unmixed  with, 
admiration  upon  the  strenuous  woman  as  she  had  seen 
her,  full  of  ambition  to  remake  the  world  in  less  than 
six  days;  and  she  dreaded  the  type  with  the  dread 
natural  in  a  girl  of  twenty-two  who  has  a  sound  appe 
tite,  a  taste  in  clothes,  with  money  to  gratify  it,  and 
a  liking  for  fresh  air  and  sunshine. 

She  found  it  pleasant  to  slip  back  into  the  life  of  the 
52 


DEBATABLE  QUESTIONS  53 

town;  and  the  girl  friends  or  older  women  who  met 
her  on  summer  mornings  in  the  shopping  district  of 
Clarkson,  remarked  to  one  another  and  reported  to  their 
sons  and  husbands,,  that  Evelyn  Porter  was  at  home  to 
stay,  and  that  she  was  just  as  cordial  and  friendly  as 
ever  and  had  no  airs.  It  pleased  Evelyn  to  find  that 
the  clerks  in  the  shops  remembered  her  and  called  her 
by  name ;  and  there  was  something  homelike  and  simple 
and  characteristic  in  the  way  women  that  met  in  the 
shops  visited  with  one  another  in  these  places.  She 
caught  their  habit  of  going  into  Vortini's  for  soda 
water,  where  she  found  her  acquaintances  of  all  ages 
sitting  at  tables,  with  their  little  parcels  huddled  in 
their  laps,  discussing  absentees  and  the  weather.  She 
found,  in  these  encounters,  that  most  of  the  people 
she  knew  were  again  agitated,  as  always  at  this  season, 
because  Clarkson  was  no  cooler  than  in  previous  years; 
and  that  the  women  were  expressing  their  old  reluctance 
to  leave  their  husbands,  who  could  not  get  away  for 
more  than  two  weeks,  if  at  all.  Some  were  already 
preparing  for  Mackinac  or  Oconomowoc  or  Wequeton- 
sing,  and  a  few  of  the  more  adventurous  for  the  re 
moter  coasts  of  New  Jersey  and  Massachusetts.  The 
same  people  were  discussing  these  same  questions  in  the 
same  old  spirit,  and,  when  necessary,  confessing  with 
delightful  frankness  their  financial  disabilities,  in  ex 
cusing  their  presence  in  town  at  a  season  when  it  was 
only  an  indulgence  of  providence  that  all  the  inhabitants 
did  not  perish  from  the  heat. 

As  a  child  Evelyn  had  played  in  the  tower  of  the 
house  on  the  hill,  and  she  now  made  a  den  of  it.  Some 
of  her  childish  playthings  were  still  hidden  away  in  the 


'54  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

window  seat,,  and  stirred  freshly  the  remembrance  of 
her  mother, — her  gentleness,  her  frailty,  her  interest 
in  the  world's  work.  She  often  wondered  whether  the 
four  years  at  college  had  realized  all  that  her  dead 
mother  had  hoped  for;  but  she  was  not  morbid,  and 
she  did  not  brood.  She  found  a  pleasure  in  stealing 
up  to  the  tower  in  the  summer  nights,  and  watching 
the  shifting  lights  of  the  great  railway  yards  far  down 
the  valley,  but,  at  such  times  she  had  no  romantic  vis 
ions.  She  knew  that  the  fitful  bell  of  the  switch  engine 
and  the  rumble  of  wheels  symbolized  the  very  practical 
life  of  this  restless  region  in  which  she  had  been  born. 
She  cherished  no  delusion  that  she  was  a  princess  in  a 
tower,  waiting  for  a  lover  to  come  riding  from  east  or 
west.  She  had  always  shared  with  her  companions 
the  young  men  who  visited  her  at  college.  When  they 
sometimes  sent  her  small  gifts,  she  had  shared  these 
also.  Warrick  Earidan  had  gone  to  see  her:  sev 
eral  times,  as  an  old  friend,  and  he  had  on  these 
occasions,  with  characteristic  enterprise,  made  the  most 
of  the  opportunity  to  widen  his  acquaintance  among 
Evelyn's  friends,  to  whom  she  frankly  introduced  him. 

On  the  day  following  John  Saxton's  introduction  to 
the  house,  Evelyn  was  busy  pouring  oil  on  rusty  places 
in  the  domestic  machinery,  when  three  cards  were 
brought  up  to  her  bearing  unfamiliar  names.  They 
belonged,  she  imagined,  to  some  of  the  newer  people 
of  the  town  who  had  come1  to  Clarkson  during  her 
years  from  home. 

"Mrs.  Atherton  ?"  she  said  inquiringly,  pausing  before 
the  trio  in  the  drawing-room. 


DEBATABLE  QUESTIONS  55 

Two  of  the  ladies  looked  toward  the  third,  with  whom 
Evelyn  shook  hands. 

"Miss  Morris  and  Mrs.  Wingate,"  murmured  the  lady 
identified  as  Mrs.  Atherton.  They  all  sat  down. 

"It's  so  very  nice  to  know  that  you  are  at  home 
again/'  said  Mrs.  Atherton,  "although  I've  not  had  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  you  before.  I  knew  your  mother 
very  well,  many  years  ago,  but  I  have  been  away  for  a 
long  time  and  have  only  recently  come  back  to  Clark- 
son. 

"It  is  very  pleasant  to  be  at  home  again,"  Evelyn  re 
sponded. 

Mrs.  Atherton  smiled  nervously  and  looked  pointedly 
at  her  companions,  evidently  expecting  them  to  partici 
pate  in  the  conversation.  The  younger  woman,  who 
had  been  presented  as  Miss  Morris,  sat  rigid  in  a  gilt 
reception  chair.  She  was  of  severe  aspect  and  glared 
at  Mrs.  Atherton,  who  threw  herself  again  into  the 
breach. 

"I  hope  you  do  not  dislike  the  West  ?"  Mrs.  Atherton 
inquired  of  Evelyn. 

"No,  indeed !  On  the  other  hand  I  am  very  proud  of 
it.  You  know  I  am  a  native  here,  and  very  loyal." 

Miss  Morris  seized  this  as  if  it  had  been  her  cue,  and 
declared  in  severe  tones: 

"We  of  the  West  are  fortunate  in  living  away 
from  the  artificiality  of  the  East.  There  is  some 
freedom  here;  the  star  of  empire  hovers  here;  the 
strength  of  the  nation  lies  in  the  rugged  but  honest 
people  of  the  great  West,  who  gave  Lincoln  to  the 
nation  and  the  nation  to  Liberty."  There  was  a  glitter 
of  excitement  in  the  woman's  eyes,  but  she  spoke  in  low 


56  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

monotonous  tones.  Evelyn  thought  for  a  moment  that 
this  was  conscious  hyperbole,  but  Miss  Morris's  aspect 
of  unrelenting  severity  undeceived  her.  Something 
seemed  to  be  expected  of  her,  and  Evelyn  said : 

"That  is  all  very  true,  but,  you  know,  they  say  down 
East  that  we  are  far  too  thoroughly  persuaded  of  our 
greatness  and  brag  too  much." 

"But/'  continued  Miss  Morris,  "they  are  coming  to 
us  more  and  more  for  statesmen.  Look  at  literature! 
See  what  our  western  writers  are  doing!  The  most 
vital  books  we  are  now  producing  are  written  west  of 
the  Alleghanies  I9' 

"You  know  Miss  Morris  is  a  writer,"  interrupted 
Mrs.  Atherton.  "We  should  say  Doctor  Morris/'  she 
continued,  with  a  rising  inflection  on  the  title, — "not 
an  M.  D.  Miss  Morris  is  a  doctor  of  philosophy." 

"Oh,"  said  Evelyn.     "What  college,  Doctor  Morris?" 

"The  University  of  North  Dakota,"  with  emphasis  on 
the  university.  "I  had  intended  going  to  Heidelberg, 
but  felt  that  we  loyal  Americans  should  patronize  home 
institutions.  The  choruses  of  Euripides  may  ring  as 
grandly  on  our  Western  plains  as  in  Athens  itself," 
she  added  with  finality.  She  enunciated  with  great 
care  and  seemed  terribly  in  earnest  to  Evelyn,  who 
felt  an  uncontrollable;  desire  to  laugh.  But  there  was, 
she  now  imagined,  something  back  of  all  this,  and  she 
waited  patiently  for  its  unfolding.  The  denouement 
was,  she  hoped,  near  at  hand,  for  Miss  Morris  moved 
her  eyeglasses  higher  up  on  her  nose  and  appeared 
even  more  formidable  than  before. 

"I  have  heard  that  great  emphasis  is  laid  at  Smith  on 
social  and  political  economy.  You  must  be  very  anxious 


DEBATABLE  QUESTIONS  57 

to  make  practical  use  of  your  knowledge/7  continued 
Miss  Morris. 

Evelyn  recalled  guiltily  her  cuts  in  these  studies. 

"Carlyle  or  somebody" — she  was  afraid  to  quote  be 
fore  a  doctor  of  philosophy,  and  thought  it  wise  to  give 
a  vague  citation — "calls  political  economy  the  dismal 
science,,  and  I'm  afraid  I  have  looked  at  it  a  little  bit 
that  way  myself."  She  smiled  hopefully,  but  Miss 
Morris  did  not  relax  her  severity. 

"Civic  responsibility  rests  on  women  as  strongly  as 
on  men;  even  more  so,"  declared  Miss  Morris. 

"Well,  I  think  we  ought  to  do  what  we  can,"  assented 
Evelyn. 

"Now,  our  Local  Council  has  been  doing  a  great  deal 
toward  improving  the  sanitation  of  Clarkson." 

"Oh  yes,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wingate  from  her  corner. 

"And  we  feel  that  every  educated  woman  in  the  com 
munity  should  lend  her  aid  to*  all  the  causes  of  the 
Local  Council." 

"Yes?"  said  Evelyn,  rather  weakly.  She  felt  that 
the  plot  was  thickening.  "I  really  know  very  little  of 
such  things,  but—  The  "but"  was  highly  equivocal. 

"And  we  are  very  anxious  to  get  a  representative  on 
the  School  Board,"  continued  Miss  Morris.  "The  elec 
tion  is  in  November.  Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you  how 
perfectly  absurd  it  is  for  men  to  conduct  our  educational 
affairs  when  the  schools  are  properly  a  branch  of  the 
home  and  should  be  administered,  in  part,  at  least,  by 
women  ?"  She  punctuated  her  talk  so  that  her  commas 
cut  into  the  air.  Mrs.  Wingate,  the  third  and  silent 
lady,  approved  this  more  or  less  inarticulately. 

"I  know  there's  a  great  deal  in  that,"  said  Evelyn. 


58  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"And  we,  the  Executive  Committee  of  the  Council, 
have  been  directed  to  ask  you" — Mrs.  Wingate  and  Mrs. 
Atherton  moved  nervously  in  their  seats,  but  Miss  Morris 
now  spoke  with  more  deliberation,  and  with  pedagogic 
care  of  her  pronunciation — "to  become  a  candidate  for 
the  School  Board." 

Evelyn  felt  a  cold  chill  creeping  over  her,  and  swal 
lowed  hard  in  an  effort  to  summon  some  word  to  meet 
this  shock. 

"Your  social  position,"  continued  Miss  Morris  vol 
ubly,  "and  the  prestige  which  you  as  a  bachelor  of  arts 
have  brought  home  from  college,  make  you  a  most  nat 
ural  candidate." 

"Destiny  really  seems  to  be  pointing  to  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Atherton,  with  coaxing  sweetness  in  her  tone. 

"Oh,  but  I  couldn't  think  of  it!"  exclaimed  Evelyn, 
recovering  her  courage.  "I  have  had  no  experience  in 
such  matters !  Why,  that  would  be  politics ! — and  I 
have  always  felt, — it  has  seemed  to  me, — I  simply  can't 
consider  it!" 

She  had  gained  her  composure  now.  She  had  been 
called  a  bachelor  of  arts,  and  she  felt  an  impulse  to 
laugh. 

"Ah !  we  had  expected  that  it  would  seem  strange  to 
you  at  first,"  said  Mrs.  Atherton,  who  appeared  to  be 
in  charge  of  the  grand  strategy  of  the  call,  while  Miss 
Morris  carried  the  rapid  firing  guns  and  Mrs.  Wingate 
lent  moral  support,  as  of  a  shore  battery. 

Mrs.  Atherton  had  risen. 

"We  have  all  set  our  hearts  on  it,  and  you  must  not 
decline.  Think  it  over  well,  and  when  you  come  to 


DEBATABLE  QUESTIONS  59 

the  first  meeting  of  the  Council  in  September,  you 
will,  I  am  sure,  be  convinced  of  your  duty." 

"Yes;  a  very  solemn  obligation  that  wealth  and  ed 
ucation  have  laid  upon  you,"  Miss  Morris  amplified. 

"A  solemn  obligation,"  echoed  Mrs.  Wingate. 

The  three  filed  out,  Miss  Morris  leading  the  way, 
while  Mrs.  Atherton  lingeringly  covered  their  retreat 
with  a  few  words  that  were  intended  to  convey  a  knowl 
edge  of  the  summer  frivolities  then  pending. 

"I  should  be  very  glad  to  have  you  come  to  see  me 
at  my  rooms,"  said  Miss  Morris,  wheeling  in  her  short 
skirt  as  she  reached  the  door.  "I  have  rooms  in  the 
^Etna  Building." 

"Do  come  and  see  us,  too,"  murmured  the  convoy, 
smiling  in  relief  as  they  turned  away. 

Evelyn  sat  down  in  the  nearest  chair  and  laughed. 

"I  wonder  whether  they  think  college  has  made  me 
like  that?"  she  asked  herself. 

At  dinner  she  gave  her  father  a  humorous  account 
of  the  interview.  Grant  was  away  dining  with  a  play 
mate  and  they  were  alone.  Porter  was  in  one  of  his 
perverse  moods,  and  he  began  gruffly: 

"I  should  like  to  know  why  not!  Haven't  I  spent 
thousands  of  dollars  on  your  education?  The  lady  was 
right ;  you  are,  at  least  so  I  have  understood,  a  bachelor 
of  arts.  Why  a  bachelor  I'm  sure  I  don't  know—  He 
was  buttering  a  bit  of  bread  with  deliberation  and  did 
not  look  at  Evelyn,  who  waited  patiently,  knowing  that 
he  would  have  his  whim  out. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  he  went  on,  "a  proper  recognition  of 
your  talents  and  education,  and  also  of  me,  as  one  of 
the  oldest  citizens  of  Clarkson.  I  tell  you  it  is  good  to 


60  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

get  a  little  recognition  once  in  a  while.  I  have  a  painful 
recollection  of  having  been  defeated  for  School  Commis 
sioner  about  ten  years  ago.  Now  here's  a  chance  for 
the  family  to  redeem  itself.  Of  course  you  accepted 
the  nomination,,  and  after  your  election  I'll  expect  you 
to  bring  the  school  funds  to  my  bank,  and  I'll  say  to 
you  now  that  the  directors  will  do  the  right  thing  by 

you." 

He  was  still  avoiding  Evelyn's  eyes,  but  his  humor 
was  growing  impatient  for  recognition. 

"Now,  father!"  she  pleaded,  and  they  laughed  to 
gether. 

"Father,"  she  said  seriously,  "I  don't  want  these 
people  here  to  get  an  idea  that  I'm  not  an  ordinary 
being." 

"That's  an  astonishing  statement,"  he  began,  ready 
for  further  banter ;  but  she  would  not  have  it 

"There  are,"  she  said,  "certain  things  that  a  woman 
ought  to  do,  whether  she's  educated  or  not;  and  I  have 
ideas  about  that.  So  you  think  these  people  here  are 
expecting  great  things  of  me, — " 

"Of  course  they  are,  and  with  reason,"  said  Porter, 
still  anxious  to  return  to  his  joke. 

"But  I  do  not  intend  to  have  it!  When  I'm  forty 
years  old  I  may  change  my  mind,  but  right  now  I 
want—" 

She  hesitated. 

"Well,  what  do  you  want,  child?"  he  said  gently, 
with  the  fun  gone  out  of  his  voice.  They  had  had  their 
coffee,  and  she  sat  with  her  elbow  on  the  table  and  her 
chin  in  her  hand. 


DEBATABLE  QUESTIONS  61 

"Why,  Fm  afraid  I  want  to  have  a  good  time,"  she 
declared,  rising. 

"And  that's  just  what  I  want  you  to  have,  child,"  he 
said  kindly,  putting  his  arm  about  her  as  they  went  out 
together. 

Evelyn  declined  the  honor  offered  her  by  the  local 
council,  at  long  range,  in  a  note  to  Doctor  Morris, 
giving  no  reasons  beyond  her  unfamiliarity  with  po 
litical  and  school  matters.  These  she  knew  would  not 
be  considered  adequate  by  Doctor  Morris,  but  the  latter, 
.after  writing  a  somewhat  caustic  reply,  in  which  she 
dwelt  upon  the  new  woman's  duties  and  responsibilities, 
immediately  announced  her  own  candidacy.  The  in 
cident  was  closed  as  far  as  Evelyn  was  concerned  and 
she  was  not  again  approached  in  the  matter. 

Her  father  continued  to  joke  about  it,  and  a  few 
weeks  later,  when  they  were  alone,  referred  to  it  in  a  way 
which  she  knew  by  experience  was  merely  a  feint  that 
concealed  some  serious  purpose.  Men  of  Porter's  age 
are  usually  clumsy  in  dealing  with  their  own  children, 
and  Porter  was  no  exception.  When  he  had  anything  of 
weight  on  his  mind  to  discuss  with  Evelyn,  he  brooded 
over  it  for  several  days  befoTe  attacking  her.  His  man 
ner  with  men  was  easy,  and  he  was  known  down  town 
as  a  good  bluffer;  but  he  stood  not  a  little  in  awe  of 
his  daughter. 

"I  suppose  things  will  be  gay  here  this  winter,"  he 
said,  as  they  sat  together  on  the  porch. 

"About  the  same  old  story,  I  imagine.  The  people 
and  their  ways  don't  seem  to  have  changed  much." 

"You  must  have  some  parties  yourself.     Better  start 


62  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

them  up  early.  Get  some  of  the  college  girls  out,  and 
turn  it  on  strong." 

"Well,  I  shan't  want  to  overdo  it.  I  don't  want  to  be 
a  nuisance  to  you,  and  entertaining  isn't  as  easy  as  it 
looks." 

"It'll  do  me  good,  too/'  he  replied.  He  fidgeted  in 
his  chair  and  played  with  his  hat,  which,  however,  he 
did  not  remove,  but  shifted  from  one  side  to  the  other, 
smoking  his  cigar  meanwhile  without  taking  it  from  his 
mouth.  He  rose  and  walked  out  to  one  of  his  sprinklers 
which  had  been  placed  too  near  the  walk  and  kicked  it 
off  into  the  grass.  She  watched  him  with  a  twinkle 
in  her  eyes,  and  then  laughed.  "What  is  it,  father?" 
she  asked,  when  he  came  back  to  the  porch. 

"What's  what?"  he  replied,  with  assumed  irritation. 
He  knew  that  he  must  now  face  the  music,  and  grew 
composed  at  once. 

"Well,  it's  this, —  "  with  sudden  decision. 

"Yes,  I  knew  it  was  something,"  she  said,  still  laugh 
ing  and  not  willing  to  make  it  too  easy  for  him. 

"You  know  the  Knights  of  Midas  are  quite  an  in 
stitution  here — boom  the  town,  and  give  a  fall  festival 
every  year.  The  idea  is  to  get  the  country  people  in 
to  spend  their  money.  Lots  of  torn-foolishness  about 
it, — swords  and  plumes  and  that  kind  of  rubbish;  but 
we  all  have  to  go  in  for  it.  Local  pride  and  so  on." 

"Yes ;  do  you  want  me  to  join  the  Knights  ?" 

"No,  not  precisely.  But  you  see,  they  have  a  ball 
every  year  in  connection  with  the  festival,  with  a  queen 
and  maids  of  honor.  I  guess  you've  never  seen  one  of 
these  things,  as  they  have  them  in  October,  and  you've 
always  been  away  at  school.  Now  the  committee  on 


DEBATABLE  QUESTIONS  63 

entertainment  has  been  after  me  to  see  if  you'd  be  queen 
of  the  ball  this  year — " 

"Oh!—"  ominously. 

"Just  hold  on  a  minute."  He  was  wholly  at  ease  now, 
and  assumed  the  manner  which  he  had  found  effective 
in  dealing  with  obstreperous  customers  of  his  bank. 
"I'm  free  to  say  that  I  don't  like  the  idea  of  this  myself 
particularly.  There's  a  lot  of  publicity  about  it  and  you 
know  I  don't  like  that — and  the  newspapers  make  an 
awful  fuss.  But  you  see  it  isn't  wise  for  us" — he  laid 
emphasis  on  the  pronoun — "to  set  up  to  be  better  than 
other  people.  Now".,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "you 
turned  down  this  School  Board  business  the  other  day 
and  said  you  wanted  to  have  a  good  time,  just  like  other 
girls,  and  I  reckon  most  of  the  girls  in  town  would  be 
tickled  at  a  chance  like  this — " 

"And  you  want  me  to  do  it,  father  ?  Is  that  what  you 
mean  ?  But  it  must  be  perfectly  awful, — the  crowd  and 
the  foolish  mummery." 

"Well,  there's  one  thing  sure,  you'll  never  have  to  do 
it  a  second  time."  Porter  smiled  reassuringly. 

"But  I  haven't  said  I'd  do  it  once,  father." 

"I'd  like  to  have  you ;  I'd  like  it  very  much,  and  should 
appreciate  your  doing  it.  But  don't  say  anything  about 
it."  Some  callers  were  coming  up  the  walk,  so  the  mat 
ter  was  dropped.  Porter  recurred 'to  the  subject  again 
next  day,  and  Evelyn  saw  that  he  wished  very  much  to 
have  her  take  part  in  the  carnival,  but  the  idea  did 
not  grow  pleasanter  as  she  considered  it.  It  was  quite 
true,  as  she  had  told  her  father,  that  she  wanted  to 
enjoy  herself  after  the  manner  of  other  young  women, 
and  without  constant  reference  to  her  advantages,  as 


64  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

she  had  heard  them  called ;  but  the  thought  of  a  public 
appearance  in  what  she  felt  to  be  a  very  ridiculous 
function  did  not  please  her.  On  the  other  hand,  her 
father  rarely  asked  anything  of  her  and  he  would  not 
have  made  this  request  without  considering  it  carefully 
beforehand. 

In  her  uncertainty  she  went  for  advice  to  Mrs. 
Whipple,  the  wife  of  a  retired  army  officer,  who  had 
been  her  mother's  friend.  Mrs.  Whipple  was  a  woman 
of  wide  social  experience  and  unusual  common  sense. 
She  had  settled  in  her  day  many  of  those  distressing 
complications  which  arise  at  military  posts  in  times  of 
national  peace.  Young  officers  still  came  to  her  for 
advice  in  their  love  affairs,  which  she  always  took 
seriously,  but  not  too  seriously.  Warry  Earidan 
maintained  unjustly  that  Mrs.  Whipple's  advice  was 
bad,  but  that  it  did  the  soul  good  to  see  how  much  joy 
she  got  out  of  giving  it.  The  army  had  communicated 
both  social  dignity  and  liveliness  to  Clarkson,  as  to  many 
western  cities  which  had  military  posts  for  neighbors. 
In  the  old  times  when  civilians  were  busy  with  the  strug 
gle  for  bread  and  had  little  opportunity  for  social 
recreation,  army  men  and  women  had  leisure  for  a  punc 
tilious  courtesy.  The  mule-drawn  ambulance  was  a  pic 
turesque  feature  of  the  urban  landscape  as  it  bore  the 
army  women  about  the  rough  streets  of  the  new  cities ; 
it  was  not  elegant,  but  it  was  so  eminently  respectable ! 
There  might  be  an  occasional  colonel  that  was  a  snob, 
or  a  major  that  draoik  too  much ;  or  a  Mrs.  Colonel  who 
was  a  trifle  too  conscious  of  her  rights  over  her  sisters 
at  the  Post,  or  a  Mrs.  Major  whose  syntax  was  unbear 
able  ;  but  the  stars  and  stripes  covered  them  all,  even  as 


DEBATABLE  QUESTIONS  65 

they  cover  worse  people  and  worse  errors  in  our  civil 
administrators. 

It  gave  Evelyn  a  pleasant  sensation  to  find  herself 
again  in  the  little  Whipple  parlor.  The  furniture  was 
the  same  that  she  remembered  of  old  in  the  command 
ant's  house  at  the  fort.  It  had  at  last  found  repose,  for 
the  Whipples'  marching  days  were  over.  They  made 
an  effort  to  have  an  Indian  room,  where  they  kept  their 
books,  but  they  refrained  from  calling  the  place  a  library. 
On  the  walls  were  the  headdress  of  a  Sioux  chief,  and 
a  few  colored  photographs  of  red  men;  the  couch  was 
covered  with  a  Navajo  blanket,  and  on  the  floor  were 
wolf  and  bear  skins.  When  chairs  were  needed  for 
callers,  the  general  brought  them  in  from  other  rooms; 
he  himself  sat  in  a  canvas  camp  chair,  which  he  said  was 
more  comfortable  than  any  other  kind,  but  which  was 
prone  to  collapse  under  a  civilian.  The  wastepaper- 
basket  by  the  generaPs  table,  and  a  basket  for  fire-wood 
were  of  Indian  make,  dyed  in  dull  shades  of  red  and 
green. 

"My  dear  child,"  Mrs.  Whipple  began,  when  Evelyn 
had  explained  her  errand ;  "this  is  a  very  pretty  compli 
ment  they're  paying  you, — don't  you  know  that  ?" 

"Yes,  but  I  don't  want  it/'  declared  the  girl,  with 
emphasis. 

"That  is  wholly  unreasonable.  There  are  girls  in 
Clarkson  that  could  not  afford  to  take  it;  the  strength 
of  your  position  is  that  you  can  afford  to  do  it!  It's 
not  going  to  injure  you  in  any  way ;  can't  you  see  that  ? 
Everybody  knows  all  about  you, — that  you  naturally 
wouldn't  want  it.  Why,  there's  that  Margrave  girl, 
whose  father  does  something  or  other  in  one  of  the  rail- 


66  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

ways, — she  had  this  honor  that  is  worrying  you  two 
years  ago,  and  her  father  and  all  his  friends  worked 
hard  to  get  it  for  her." 

Evelyn  laughed  at  her  friend's  earnestness.  "I'm 
afraid  you're  trying  to  lift  this  to  an  impersonal  plane, 
but  I'm  considering  myself  in  this  matter.  I  simply 
don't  want  to  be  mixed  up  in  that  kind  of  thing." 

"These  business  men  work  awfully  hard  for  all  of  us," 
Mrs.  Whipple  continued.  "It  seems  to  me  that  their 
daily  business  contests  and  troubles  are  fiercer  than  real 
wars.  I'd  a  lot  rather  take  my  chances  in  the  army  than 
in  commercial  life, — if  I  were  doing  it  all  over  again, — 
that  is,  from  the  woman's  side.  The  government  always 
gives  us  our  bread  if  it  can't  supply  the  butter;  and  if 
the  poor  men  lose  a  fight  they  are  forgiven  and  we  still 
eat.  But  in  the  business  battle — "  she  shrugged  her 
shoulders  to  indicate  the  sorry  plight  of  the  vanquished. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  that's  all  true,"  Evelyn  conceded. 
"But  you  mustn't  be  so  abstract!  I  really  haven't  a 
philosophical  mind.  I  came  here  to  ask  you  to  tell  me 
how  to  get  out  of  this,  but  you  seem  to  be  urging 
me  in!" 

Mrs.  Whipple  rallied  her  forces  while  she  poured  the 
iced  tea  which  a  maid  had  brought. 

"We  can't  always  have  our  Druthers.'  Now  this  look?, 
like  a  very  large  sacrifice  of  comfort  and  dignity  to  you. 
I'll  grant  you  the  discomfort,  but  not  any  loss  of  dig 
nity.  If  you  were  vain  and  foolish,  I'd  take  your  side, 
just  to  protect  you,  but  you  have  no  such  weaknesses. 
You  must  not  consider  at  all  that  girls  in  Eastern  cities 
don't  do  such  things;  that's  because  there  aren't  the 
things  to  do.  Our  great-grandchildren  won't  be  doing 


DEBATABLE  QUESTIONS  67 

them  either.  But  these  carnivals,,  and  things  like  that, 
are  necessary  evils  of  our  development.  Army  people 
like  ourselves,  who  have  always  been  cared  for  by  a  pa 
ternal  government,  can  hardly  appreciate  the  troubles 
of  business  people ;  and  a  girl  like  you,  who  has  always 
led  a  carefully  sheltered  life,  with  both  comforts  and 
luxuries  given  her  without  the  asking,  must  try  to  ap 
preciate  the  fact  that  everybody  is  not  so  fortunate.  I 
don't  know  whether  these  affairs  are  really  of  any  ad 
vantage  to  the  town  commercially ;  I  have  heard  business 
men  say  that  they  are  not;  but  so  long  as  they  have 
them,  the  rest  of  us  have  got  to  submit  to  the  confetti 
throwers  and  the  country  brass  bands,  on  the  theory  that 
if  s  good  for  the  town/' 

Mrs.  Whipple  covered  all  the  ground  when  she  talked. 
She  had  daringly  addressed  department  commanders  in 
this  ample  fashion  when  her  husband  was  only  a  second 
lieutenant,  and  she  was  not  easily  driven  from  her  po 
sition. 

"But  what's  good  for  the  town  isn't  necessarily  good 
for  me,"  pleaded  Evelyn.  Her  animation  was  becoming, 
and  Mrs.  Whipple  was  noting  the  points  of  the  girl's 
beauty  with  delight.  "Any  other  girl's  clothes  would 
look  just  as  sweet  to  the  multitude/'  Evelyn  asserted. 

"That's  where  you  are  mistaken.  If  it's  a  sacrifice, 
the  town  is  offering  Iphigenia,  and  only  our  fairest 
daughter  will  do.  I'll  be  talking  fine  language  in  a 
minute,  and  one  of  us  will  be  lost."  She  laughed ;  Mrs. 
Whipple  always  laughed  at  herself  at  the  right  moment. 
She  said  it  discounted  the  pleasure  other  people  might 
have  in  laughing  at  her.  "Now  Evelyn  Porter,  you're 
a  nice  girl  and  a  sensible  one.  So  far  as  you  can  see 


68  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

you're  going  to  spend  your  days  in  this  town,  and  it  isn't 
a  bad  place.  We  preferred  to  live  here  after  the 
general  retired  because  we  liked  it,  and  that  was  when 
we  had  the  world  to  choose  from.  I've  lived  in  every 
part  of  this  country,  but  the  people  in  this  region  are 
simple  and  honest  and  wholesome,  and  they  have  human 
hearts  in  them,  and  at  my  age  that  counts  for  a  good 
deal.  The  general  and  I  were  both  born  in  Massachu 
setts,  where  you  hear  a  lot  about  ancestors  and  back 
ground;  but  I've  driven  over  these  plains  and  prairies 
in  an  army  ambulance,  since  before  the  Civil  War,  and 
it  hasn't  all  been  fun,  either;  I  love  every  mile  of 
the  country,  and  I  don't  want  you,  who  are  the  apple  of 
my  eye,  to  come  home  with  patronizing  airs — " 

"Not  guilty!"  exclaimed  Evelyn  throwing  up  her 
hands  in  protest.  "I  have  no  such  ideas  and  you  know 
it;  but  you  ignore  the  point.  What  I  can't  see  is  that 
there's  any  question  of  patriotism  in  this  Knights  of 
Midas  affair,  as  far  as  I'm  concerned,  and  I'm  not  so 
young  as  I  was.  The  queen  of  the  ball  should  be  much 
younger  than  I  am." 

"Well,  if  you're  reduced  to  that  kind  of  argument,  I 
think  we'll  have  to  call  the  debate  closed.  But  remem 
ber, — you're  asked  to  give  only  an  hour  of  your  life  to 
please  your  father,  and  a  great  many  other  people.  And 
you'll  be  doing  your  town  a  great  service,  too." 

"Well,"  said  Evelyn  dolefully,  as  she  got  up  to  go, 
"this  isn't  the  kind  of  counsel  I  came  for.  If  I'd  ex 
pected  this  from  you,  I'd  have  taken  my  troubles  else 
where."  She  had  risen  and  stood  swinging  her  parasol 
back  and  forth  and  regarding  the  tip  of  her  boot.  "You 
almost  make  it  seem  right." 


DEBATABLE  QUESTIONS  69 

"You'd  better  make  a  note  of  it  as  one  of  those  things 
that  are  not  pleasant,  but  necessary.  If  I  thought  it 
would  harm  you,  child,  I'd  certainly  warn  you  against 
it — I'd  do  that  for  your  mother's  sake." 

"I  like  your  saying  that,"  said  Evelyn,  softly. 

Mrs.  Whipple  had  been  a  beauty  in  the  old  army  days, 
'and  was  still  a  handsome  woman.  She  had  retained 
the  slenderness  of  her  girlhood,  and  the  hot  suns  and 
blighting  winds  of  the  plains  and  mountains  had  dealt 
gently  with  her.  She  took  both  of  Evelyn's  hands  at 
the  door,  and  kissed  her. 

"Don't  go  away  hating  me,  dear.  Come  up  often; 
and  after  it's  all  over,  I'll  tell  you  how  good  you've 
been." 

"Oh,  I'll  go  to  a  convent  afterward,"  Evelyn  answered ; 
"that  is,  if  I  find  that  you've  really  persuaded  me !" 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  SAFE  MAN" 

James  Wheaton  was  thirty-five  years  old,  and  was 
reckoned  among  the  solid  young  business  men  of  Clark- 
son.  He  had  succeeded  far  beyond  his  expectations  and 
was  fairly  content  with  the  round  of  the  ladder  that  he 
had  reached.  He  never  talked  about  himself  and  as  he 
had  no  intimate  friends  it  had  never  been  necessary  for 
him  to  give  confidences.  His  father  had  been  a  harness- 
maker  in  a  little  Ohio  town;  he  and  his  older  brother 
were  expected  to  follow  the  same  business;  but  the 
brother  grew  restless  under  the  threat  of  enforced 
apprenticeship  and  prevailed  on  James  to  run  away 
with  him.  '  They  became  tramps  and  enjoyed  them 
selves  roaming  through  the  country,  until  finally  they 
were  caught  stealing  in  a  little  Illinois  village  and  both 
were  arrested. 

James  was  discharged  through  the  generosity  of 
his  brother  in  taking  all  the  blame  on  himself;  the 
older  boy  was  sent  to  a  reformatory  alone.  James 
then  went  to  Chicago,  where  he  sold  papers  and  blacked 
boots  for  a  year  until  he  found  employment  as  a  train 
boy,  with  a  company  operating  on  various  lines  running 
out  of  Chicago.  This  gave  him  a  wide  acquaintance 
with  western  towns,  and  incidentally  with  railroads  and 

70 


A  SAFE  MAN  71 

railroad  men.  He  grew  tired  of  the  road,  and  obtained 
at  Clarkson  a  position  in  the  office  of  Timothy  Margrave, 
the  general  manager  of  the  Transcontinental,  which,  he 
had  heard,  was  a  great  primary  school  for  ambitious 
boys. 

It  was  thus  that  his  residence  in  Clarkson  was  es 
tablished.  He  attended  night  school,  was  assiduous  in 
his  duties,  and  attained  in  due  course  the  dignity  of  a 
desk  at  which  he  took  the  cards  of  Margrave's  callers, 
indexed  the  letter  books  and  copied  figures  under  the 
direction  of  the  chief  clerk.  After  a  year,  hearing  that 
one  of  the  Clarkson  National  Bank's  messengers  was 
about  to  resign,  he  applied  for  this  place.  Margrave 
recommended  him;  the  local  manager  of  the  news 
agency  vouched  for  his  integrity,  and  in  due  course  he 
wended  the  streets  of  Clarkson  with  a  long  bill-book,  the 
outward  and  visible  sign  of  his  position  as  messenger. 
He  was  steadily  promoted  in  the  bank  and  felt  his  past 
receding  farther  and  farther  behind  him. 

When,  at  an  important  hour  of  his  life,  Wheaton  was 
promoted  to  be  paying  teller,  he  was  in  the  receiving 
teller's  cage.  He  had  known  that  the  more  desirable 
position  was  vacant  and  had  heard  his  fellow  clerks 
speculating  as  to  the  possibility  of  a  promotion  from 
among  their  number.  Thompson,  the  cashier,  had  a 
nephew  in  the  bank;  and  among  the  clerks  he  was 
thought  to  have  the  best  chance.  They  all  knew  that 
the  directors  were  in  session,  and  several  whose  tasks 
for  the  day  were  finished,  lingered  later  than  was  their 
wont  to  see  what  would  happen.  Wheaton  kept  quietly 
at  his  work;  but  he  had  an  eye  on  the  door  o>f  the 
directors'  room,  and  an  ear  that  insensibly  turned 


72  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

toward  the  annunciator  by  which  messengers  were 
called  to  the  board  room.  It  rang  at  last,  and  Wheaton 
wiped  his  pen  with  a  little  more  than  his  usual  care 
as  he  waited  for  the  result  of  the  summons.  This  was 
on  his  twenty-fifth  birthday. 

"Mr.  Wheaton!"  The  other  clerks  looked  at  one 
another.  The  question  that  had  been  uppermost  with 
all  of  them  for  a  week  past  was  answered.  Thompson's 
nephew  slammed  his  book  shut  and  carried  it  into  the 
vault,  Wheaton  put  aside  the  balance  sheet  over  which 
he  had  been  lingering  and  went  into  the  directors'  room. 
There  had  been  no  note  of  joy  among  his  associates. 
He  knew  thait  he  was  not  popular  with  them;  he  was 
not,  in  their  sense,  a  good  fellow.  WThen  they  rushed 
off  after  hours  to  the  ball  games  or  horse  races,  he  never 
joined  them.  When  their  books  did  not  balance  he 
never  volunteered  to  help  them.  As  for  himself,  he 
always  balanced,  and  did  not  need  their  help ;  and  they 
hated  him  for  it.  This  was  his  hour  of  triumph,  but 
he  went  to  his  victory  without  the  cheer  of  his  com 
rades. 

He  heard  Mr.  Porter's  question  as  to  whether  he  felt 
qualified  to  accept  the  promotion ;  and  he  sat  patiently 
under  the  inquiries  of  the  others  as  to  his  fitness.  It 
required  no  great  powers  of  intuition  to  know  that  these 
old  men  had  already  appointed  him;  that  if  they  had 
not  known  to  their  own  satisfaction  that  he  was  the  best 
available  man,  they  would  not  be  taking  advice  from 
him  in  the  matter. 

"Sanders  leaves  on  Monday  to  take  another  position, 
and  we  will  put  you  in  his  cage  to  give  you  a  trial," 
the  president  said,  finally.  Wheaton  expressed  his  grati- 


A  SAFE  MAN  73 

tude  for  this  mark  of  confidence.  He  was  not  troubled 
by  the  suggestion  of  a  trial.  Porter  and  Thompson, 
the  cashier,  always  spoke  of  his  promotions  as  "trials." 
He  had  never  failed  thus  far  and  his  self-confidence 
was  not  disturbed  by  the  care  these  men  always  took  to 
tie  strings  to  everything  they  did  with  a  view  to  easy 
withdrawal,  if  the  results  were  not  satisfactory.  The 
position  had  been  filled  and  there  was  nothing  more  to 
be  said.  Thompson,  however,  always  liked  to  have  a 
last  word. 

"Wheaton,  your  family  live  here,  don't  they?" 

"No,"  said  Wheaton,  smiling  his  difficult  smile,  "I 
haven't  any  family.  My  parents  are  dead.  I  came  here 
from  Ohio,  and  board  over  on  the  north  side." 

"Another  Ohio  man,"  said  Porter,  "you  can't  keep 
'em  down."  They  all  laughed  at  Porter's  joke  and 
Wheaton  bowed  himself  out  under  cover  of  it. 

Later,  when  need  arose  for  creating  the  position  of 
assistant  cashier,  it  was  natural  that  the  new  desk 
should  be  assigned  to  Wheaton.  He  was  faithful  and 
competent ;  neither  Porter  nor  Thompson  had  a  son  to 
install  in  the  bank ;  and,  as  they  said  to  each  other  and 
to  their  fellow  directors,  Wheaton  had  two  distinguish 
ing  qualifications, — -he  did  his  work  and  he  kept  his 
mouth  shut. 

In  the  course  of  time  Thompson's  health  broke  down 
and  the  doctors  ordered  him  away  to  New  Mexico,  and 
again  there  seemed  nothing  to  do  but  to  promote 
Wheaton.  Thompson  wished  to  sell  his  stock  and  resign, 
but  Porter  would  not  have  it  so;  but  when,  after  two 
years,  it  was  clear  that  the  cashier  would  never  again 
be  fit  for  continuous  service  in  the  bank,  Wheaton  was 


H  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

duly   elected   cashier  and   Thompson   was   made   vice- 
president. 

Wheaton  had  now  been  in  Clarkson  fifteen  years,  and 
he  was  well  aware  that  other  young  men,  with  in 
fluential  connections,  had  not  done  nearly  so  well  as  he. 
He  treasured  no  illusions  as  to  his  abilities ;  he  did  not 
think  he  had  a  genius  for  business ;  but  he  had  demon 
strated  to  his  own  satisfaction  that  such  qualities  as  he 
possessed, — industry,  sobriety  and  obedience, — brought 
results,  and  with  these  results  he  was  well  satisfied.  He 
hoped  some  day  to  be  rich,  but  he  was  content  to  make 
haste  slowly.  He  never  speculated.  He  read  in  the 
newspapers  every  day  of  men  holding  responsible  posi 
tions  who  embezzled  and  absconded,  but  there  was  never 
any  question  in  his  mind  as  between  honesty  and 
knavery.  It  irritated  him  when  these  occurrences  were 
commented  on  facetiously  before  him ;  he  did  not  relish 
jokes  which  carried  an  implication  that  he  too  might 
belong  to  the  dubious  cashier  class;  and  inquiries  as  to 
whether  he  would  spend  his  vacation  in  Canada  or,  if 
it  were  winter,  in  Guatemala,  were  not  received  in  good 
part,  for  he  had  much  personal  dignity  and  little  humor. 
He  was  counted  among  the  older  men  of  the  town  rather 
than  among  men  of  his  own  age,  and  he  found  himself 
much  more  at  case  among  his  seniors.  The  young 
men  appreciated  his  good  qualities  and  respected  him; 
but  he  felt  that  he  was  not  one  of  them;  socially, 
he  was  voted  very  slow,  and  there  was  an  impression 
abroad  that  he  was  stingy.  Certainly  he  did  not  spend 
his  money  frivolously,  and  he  never  had  done  so.  Many 
fathers  held  him  up  as  an  example  to  their  sons,  and 
this  tended  further  to  the  creation  of  a  feeling  among 


A  SAFE  MAN  T5 

his  contemporaries  that  he  was  lacking  in  good  fellow 
ship. 

Raridan  knew  the  personal  history  of  most  of  his 
fellow  townsmen,  and  he  was  fond  of  characterizing 
those  whom  he  particularly  liked  or  disliked,  for  the 
benefit  of  his  friends.  He  took  it  upon  himself  to 
sketch  Wheaton  for  John  Saxton's  benefit  in  this 
fashion. 

"Jim  Wheaton's  one  of  those  men  who  never  make 
mistakes/'  said  Raridan,  with  the  scorn  of  a  man  whose 
own  mistakes  do  not  worry  him.  "He  went  into  that 
bank  as  a  boy,  and  was  first  a  model  messenger,  and  then 
a  model  clerk;  and  when  they  had  to  have  a  cashier 
there  was  the  model  assistant,  who  had  been  a  model 
everything  else,  so  they  put  him  in.  There  wasn't  any 
body  else  for  the  job;  and  I  guess  he's  a  good  man  for 
it,  too.  A  bank  cashier  doesn't  dare  to  make  mistakes; 
and  as  Wheaton  is  not  of  that  warm,  emotional  nature 
that  would  lead  him  to  lend  money  without  getting  some 
thing  substantial  to  hold  before  the  borrower  got  away, 
he's  the  model  cashier.  You've  heard  of  those  bank 
cashiers  who  can  refuse  a  loan  to  a  man  and  send  him 
out  of  the  bank  singing  happy  chants.  Well,  Jim  isn't 
that  kind.  When  he  turns  down  a  man,  the  man  doesn't 
go  on  his  way  rejoicing.  I  don't  know  how  much  money 
Wheaton's  got.  He's  made  something,  of  course,  and 
Porter  would  probably  sell  him  stock  up  to  a  certain 
point.  He'll  die  rich,  and  nobody,  I  fancy,  will  ever  be 
any  gladder  because  he's  favored  this  little  old  earth 
with  his  presence." 

As  a  bank  clerk  the  teller's  cage  had  shut  Wheaton 
off  from,  the  world.  Young  women  of  social  distinction 


76  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

who  came  sometimes  to  get  checks  cashed,  knew  him  as 
a  kind  of  automaton,  that  looked  at  both  sides  of  their 
checks  and  at  themselves,  and  then  passed  out  coin  and 
paper  to  them ;  they  saw  him  nowhere  else,  and  did  not 
hother  themselves  about  him.  After  his  promotion  to 
be  assistant  cashier,  he  saw  the  world  closer  at  hand. 
He  had  a  desk  and  could  sit  down  and  talk  to  the  men 
whom  he  had  studied  from  the  cage  for  so  long.  The 
young  women,  too,  approached  him  no  longer  with  checks 
to  be  cashed,  but  with  little  books  in  which  they  urged 
him  officially  and  personally  to  subscribe  to  charities. 
Porter,  who  was  naturally  a  man  of  generous  impulses, 
knew  his  own  weakness  and  made  the  cashier  the  bank's 
almoner.  He  was  very  sure  that  Wheaton  would  be  as 
careful  of  the  bank's  money  as  of  his  own ;  he  had  taken 
judicial  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  Wheaton's  balance 
on  the  bank's  books  had  shown  a  marked  and  steady 
growth  through  all  the  years  of  his  connection  with  it. 
Wheaton's  promotion  to  the  cashiership  had  come  in 
the  spring;  and  shortly  afterward  he  had  changed  his 
way  of  living  in  a  few  particulars.  He  had  lodged  for 
years  in  a  boarding  house  frequented  .by  clerks ;  a  place 
where  his  fellow  boarders  were,  among  others,  a  music 
teacher,  a  milliner  and  the  chief  operator  of  the  tele 
phone  exchange.  He  had  not  felt  above  them;  their 
dancing  class  and  occasional  theater  party  had  seemed 
fine  to  him.  Porter  now  suggested  that  Wheaton  should 
be  a  member  of  the  Clarkson  Club,  and  Wheaton  as 
sented,  on  the  president's  representation  that  "it  would 
be  a  good  thing  for  the  bank."  Vacant  apartments 
were  offered  at  this  time  in  The  Bachelors',  as  it  was 
called,  and  he  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  to 


A  SAFE  MAN  77 

change  his  place  of  residence.  He  had  considered  the 
matter  of  taking  a  room  at  the  club,  but  this,  after 
reflection,  he  rejected  as  unwise.  The  club  was  a  new 
institution  in  the  town,  and  he  was  aware  that  there 
were  conservative  people  in  Clarkson  who  looked  on 
it  as  a  den  of  iniquity, — with  what  justification  he  did 
not  know  from  personal  experience,  but  he  had  heard 
it  referred  to  in  this  way  at  the  boarding  house  table. 
He  knew  Earidan  and  the  others  at  The  Bachelors',  but 
his  acquaintance  with  them  was  of  a  perfunctory  busi 
ness  character.  When  he  moved  to  The  Bachelors', 
Earidan,  who  was  always  punctilious  in  social  matters, 
formally  called  on  him  in  his  room,  as  did  also  Cap 
tain  Wheelock,  the  army  officer  then  stationed  in  Clark- 
son  on  recruiting  service.  The  others  in  the  house 
welcomed  him  less  formally  as  they  chanced  to  meet 
him  in  the  hall  or  on  the  stairway;  they  were  busy  men 
who  worked  long  hours  and  did  not  bother  themselves 
about  the  amenities  and  graces  of  life. 

His  change  to  The  Bachelors'  was  of  importance  to 
Wheaton  in  many  ways.  He  saw  here,  in  the  intimacies 
of  their  common  table,  men  df  a  higher  social  standing 
than  he  had  known  before.  Their  way  of  chaffing  one 
another  seemed  to  him  very  bright ;  they  mocked  at  the 
gods  and  were  not  destroyed.  Earidan  was  a  new  species 
and  spoke  a  strange  tongue.  Earidan  and  Wheelock 
appeared  at  the  table  in  dinner-coats,  and  after  a  few 
weeks  Wheaton  followed  their  example.  Earidan,  he 
knew,  dressed  whether  he  went  out  or  not,  and  he  estab 
lished  his  own  habit  in  this  particular  with  as  little 
delay  as  possible.  The  table  then  balanced,  the  smelter 
manager,  the  secretary  of  the  terra  cotta  manufacturing 


78  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

company,  and  the  traveling  passenger  agent  of  the 
Transcontinental  Eailroad  appearing  in  the  habiliments 
which  they  wore  at  their  respective  places  of  business, 
and  Raridan,  Wheaton  and  Wheelock  in  black  and 
white. 

The  humor  of  this  division  was  not  lost  on  the  travel 
ing  passenger  agent,  who  chaffed  the  "glad  rag"  faction, 
as  he  called  it,  until  Raridan  took  up  arms  for  his  own 
side  of  the  table. 

"It  may  be  true,  sir,  what  you  say  about  a  division 
here  between  the  working  and  non- working  classes ;  but 
wit  and  beauty  have  from  most  ancient  times  bedecked 
themselves  in  robes  of  purity.  A  man  like  yourself, 
whose  business  is  to  persuade  people  to  ride  on  the  worst 
railroad  on  earth,  should  properly  array  himself  in  sack 
cloth  and  ashes,  and  not  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  which 
belong  to  those  who  severally  give  their  thoughts  to 
the, — er — promotion  of  peace" — indicating  Wheelock — 
"sound  finances,"  indicating  Wheaton,  "and — er — in 
my  own  case — 

"Yes,  do  tell  us,"  said  the  railroad  man,  ironically. 

"To  faith  and  good  works,"  said  Warrick  imperturb- 
ably. 

"And  mostly  works, — I  don't  think!"  declared 
Wheelock. 

The  relations  between  Porter  and  Wheaton  were 
strictly  of  a  business  character.  This  was  not  by  inten 
tion  on  Porter's  part.  He  assumed  that  at  some  time 
he  or  Thompson  had  known  all  about  Wheaton's  ante 
cedents;  and  after  so  many  years  of  satisfactory  ser 
vice,  during  the  greater  part  of  which  the  bank  had  been 
protected  against  Wheaton,  as  against  all  the  rest  of  the 


A  SAFE  MAN  79 

employees,  by  a  bonding  company,  he  accepted  the 
cashier  without  any  question.  Before  Evelyn's  return 
he  had  one  day  expressed  to  Wheaton  his  satisfaction 
that  he  would  soon  have  a  home  again,  and  Wheaton 
remarked  with  civil  sympathy  that  Miss  Porter  must 
now  be  "quite  a  young  lady." 

"Oh,  yes;  you  must  come  up  to  the  house  when  we 
get  going  again,"  Porter  answered. 

Wheaton  had  seen  the  inside  of  few  houses  in  Clark- 
son.  He  had  a  recollection  of  having  been  sent  to 
Porter's  several  times,  while  he  was  still  an  errand  boy 
in  the  bank,  to  fetch  Porter's  bag  on  occasions  when  the 
president  had  been  called  away  unexpectedly.  He  re 
membered  Evelyn  Porter  as  she  used  to  come  as  a  child 
and  sit  in  the  carriage  outside  the  bank  to  wait  for  her 
father;  the  Porters  stood  to  him  then,  and  now,  for 
wealth  and  power. 

Earidan  had  a  contempt  for  Wheaton's  intellectual 
deficiencies;  and  praise  of  Wheaton's  steadiness  and 
success  vexed  him  as  having  some  sting  for  himself; 
but  his  own  amiable  impulses  got  the  better  of  his 
prejudices,  and  he  showed  Wheaton  many  kindnesses. 
When  the  others  at  The  Bachelors'  nagged  Wheaton,  it 
was  Earidan  who  threw  himself  into  the  controversy  to 
take  Wheaton's  part.  He  took  him  to  call  at  some  of  the 
houses  he  knew  best,  and  though  this  was  a  matter  of 
propinquity  he  knew  nevertheless  that  he  preferred 
Wheaton  to  the  others  in  the  house.  Wheaton  was  not 
noisy  nor  pretentious  and  the  others  were  sometimes 
both. 

Wheaton  soon  found  it  easy  to  do  things  that  he 
had  never  thought  of  doing  before.  He  became  known 


80  THE   MAIN   CHANCE 

to  the  florist  and  the  haberdasher;  there  was  a  little 
Hambletonian  at  a  certain  liveryman's  which  Warry 
Earidan  drove  a  good  deal,  and  he  had  learned  from 
Warry  how  pleasant  it  was  to  drive  out  to  the  new 
country  club  in  a  runabout  instead  of  using  the  street 
car,  which  left  a  margin  of  plebeian  walking  at  the  end 
of  the  line.  He  had  never  smoked,  but  he  now  made  it  a 
point  to  carry  cigarettes  with  him.  Earidan  and  many 
other  young  men  of  his  acquaintance  always  had  them; 
he  fancied  that  the  smoking  of  a  cigarette  gave  a  touch 
of  elegance  to  a  gentleman.  Captain  Wheelock  smoked 
cigarettes  which  bore  his  own  monogram,  and  as  he  said 
that  these  did  not  cost  any  more  than  others  of  the  same 
brand,  Wheaton  allowed  the  captain  to  order  some  for 
him.  But  while  he  acquired  the  superficial  graces,  he 
did  not  lose  his  instinctive  thrift;  he  had  never  at 
tempted  to  plunge,  even  on  what  his  associates  at  The 
Bachelors'  called  "sure  things";  and  he  was  equally 
incapable  of  personal  extravagances.  If  he  bought 
flowers  he  sent  them  where  they  would  tell  in  his  favor. 
If  he  had  five  dollars  to  give  to  the  Gazette's  Ice  Fund 
for  the  poor,  he  considered  that  when  the  newspaper 
printed  his  name  in  its  list  of  acknowledgments,  between 
Timothy  Margrave,  who  gave  fifty  dollars,  and  William 
Porter,  who  gave  twenty-five,  he  had  received  an  ade 
quate  return  on  his  investment. 

A  few  days  after  Evelyn  Porter  came  home,  Wheaton 
followed  Earidan  to  his  room  one  evening  after  dinner. 
Earidan  had  set  The  Bachelors'  an  example  of  white 
flannels  for  the  warm  weather,  and  Wheaton  also  had 
abolished  his  evening  clothes.  Earidan's  rooms  had  not 
yet  lost  their  novelty  for  him.  The  pictures,  the  stat- 


A  SAFE  MAN  81 

uettes,  the  books,  the  broad  couch  with  its  heap  of  vari 
colored  pillows,  the  table  with  its  candelabra,  by  which 
Earidan  always  read  certain  of  the  poets, — these  still 
had  their  mystery  for  Wheaton. 

"Going  out  to-night  ?"  he  asked  with  a  show  of  indif 
ference, 

"Hadn't  thought  of  it,"  answered  Earidan,  who  was 
cutting  the  pages  of  a  magazine.  "Kick  the  cat  off  the 
couch  there,  won't  you? — it's  that  blessed  Chinaman's 
beast.  Don't  know  what  a  Mongolian  is  doing  with  a 
cat, — Egyptian  bird,  isn't  it?" 

"Don't  let  me  interrupt  if  you're  reading,"  said 
Wheaton.  "But  I  thought  some  of  dropping  in  at  Mr. 
Porter's.  Miss  Porter's  home  now,  I  believe." 

"That's  a  good  idea,"  said  Earidan,  who  saw  what 
was  wanted.  He  threw  his  magazine  at  the  cat  and  got 
up  and  yawned.  "Suppose  we  do  go?" 

The  call  had  been  successfully  managed.  Miss  Por 
ter  was  very  pretty,  and  not  so  young  as  Wheaton 
expected  to  find  her.  Earidan  left  him  talking  to  her 
and  went  across  to  the  library,  where  Mr.  Porter  was 
reading  his  evening  paper.  Earidan  had  a  way  of  wan 
dering  about  in  other  people's  houses,  which  Wheaton 
envied  him.  Miss  Porter  seemed  to  take  his  call  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  when  her  father  came  out  presently 
and  greeted  him  casually  as  if  he  were  a  familiar  of  the 
house  he  felt  relieved  and  gratified. 


CHAPTEE  VII 
WAKRY  RARIDAN'S  INDIGNATION 

Earidan  stayed  in  town  all  summer,  and  he  and  Sax- 
ton  saw  a  good  deal  of  each  other.  They  drove  often 
to  the  country  club  together,  and  Saxton  became,  as 
people  said,  another  of  Warry's  enthusiasms.  Saxton 
was  no  idler,  and  he  was  conscientiously  striving  to 
bring  order  out  of  chaos  in  the  interests  which  had  been 
confided  to  him.  He  was  annoyed,  at  first,  when  Earidan 
in  his  unlimited  leisure,  began  to  invade  his  office;  but 
as  the  confidence  and  ease  of  real  friendship  grew  be 
tween  them  he  did  not  scruple  to  send  him  away,  or 
to  throw  him  a  newspaper  and  bid  him  read  and  keep 
still.  Earidan  was  the  plaything  of  many  moods; 
Saxton  was  equable  and  steady.  They  sought  each 
other  with  the  old  perversity  of  antipodal  natures.  , 

Saxton  came  in  unexpectedly  on  Earidan  at  The 
Bachelors'  one  evening  in  September.  The  day  had 
been  hot  with  the  final  fling  of  summer,  but  a  thunder 
shower  had  cooled  the  atmosphere,  and  there  stole  in 
pleasantly  the  drip,  drip,  of  the  rain  which  was  now 
abating.  Heat  lightning  glowed  in  the  west  with  the 
luminousness  so  marked  in  that  region. 

"It's  an  infernal,  hideous  shame,"  called  Earidan 
fiercely  through  the  dark,  recognizing  Saxton's  step. 

82 


WAKEY  RABIDAN'S  INDIGNATION        83 

"Thanks !  Fm  glad '  I  came,"  said  Saxton,  cheer 
fully. 

"I'd  like  to  be  a  cannibal  for  a  few  hours,"  growled 
Randan,  kicking  a  chair  toward  Saxton  without  rising 
from  the  couch  where  he  lay  sprawled.  Saxton  went 
about  quietly,  lighting  the  gas,  picking  up  the  books  and! 
newspapers  which  Raridan  had  evidently  cast  from  him 
in  his  rage,  and  making  a  seat  for  himself  by  the 
window. 

"I'm  not  an  expert  in  lunacy,  but  I'll  hear  your 
trouble.  Go  ahead." 

Raridan  got  up  suddenly,  his  glasses  swinging  wildly 
from  their  cord. 

"Put  out  that  light,"  he  commanded  savagely;  and 
Saxton  did  as  he  was  bidden. 

"Do  you  know  what  Evelyn  Porter's  going  to  do?" 
demanded  Raridan. 

"I  certainly  do  not.  You  seem  to  want  to  leave  me  in 
the  dark;  and  that's  no  joke." 

"She's  going  to  be  queen  of  their  infernal  Knights  of 
Midas  ball,  that's  what." 

"Your  language  is  spirited,  I  must  say.  I  think  we 
may  classify  that  as  important  if  true." 

"It's  an  outrage ;  an  infernal  damned  shame !"  Rari 
dan  went  on. 

"Language  unbecoming  an  officer  and  a  gentleman — " 

"There's  a  fine  girl,  as  charming  as  any  girl  dare  be. 
She  has  a  father  who  doesn't  appreciate  her; — a  good 
fellow  and  all  that  and  he  wouldn't  hurt  her  for  any 
thing  on  earth ;  but  he  hasn't  got  any  sensibility ;  that's 
the  trouble  with  scores  of  American  fathers.  These 
Western  ones  are  worse  than  any  others.  They  break 


84  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

their  sons  in,  whenever  they  can,,  to  the  same  collars 
they've  worn  themselves.  Their  daughters  they  usually 
don't  understand  at  all!  They  intimidate  their  wives 
so  that  the  poor  things  don't  dare  call  their  souls  their 
own;  hut  the  women  are  the  saving  remnant  out  here. 
And  when  a  particularly  fine  one  turns  up  she  ought 
to  be  protected  from  the  curse  of  our  infernal  commer 
cialism." 

He  threw  himself  into  a  chair  and  lighted  a  cigar 
ette. 

Saxton  laughed  silently. 

"Isn't  this  a  new  responsibility  you've  taken  on? 
I  don't  believe  these  things  are  as  bad  as  you  make 
them  out  to  be.  The  commercial  curse  is  one  of  the 
things  you  'can't  dodge  these  days.  It's  just  as  bad 
in  Boston  as  it  is  here;  and  you  find  it  wherever  you 
find  live  people  who  want  bread  to  eat  and  cake  if  they 
can  get  it." 

"But  to  visit  the  curse  on  a  girl, — a  fine  girl, — " 

"A  pretty  girl, — "  Saxton  suggested. 

"A  really  charming  girl,"  continued  Warrick,  with 
unabated  earnestness,  "is  a  rotten  shame." 

"I'm  afraid  you're  taking  it  too  seriously,"  said  Sax- 
ton.  "If  Miss  Porter  were  not  a  very  sensible  young 
woman  it  would  be  different.  You  don't  think  for  a 
moment  that  she  would  have  her  head  turned — " 

"No,  sir ;  not  a  bit  of  it ;  but  it's  the  principle  of  the 
thing  that  I'm  kicking  about.  This  is  one  of  the  things 
that  I  detest  in  these  Western  towns.  It's  the  inability 
to  escape  from  their  infernal  business.  On  the  face  of  it 
their  Midas  ball  is  a  social  event,  but  at  the  bottom,  it's 
merely  a  business  venture.  All  the  business  men  have 


WARRY  RABIDAN'S  INDIGNATION        85 

got  to  go  in  for  it,  but  it  doesn't  stop  there;  they  must 
drag  their  families  in.  Evelyn  Porter  has  got  to  mix 
up  with  the  daughters  of  the  plumbers  and  the  candle 
stick  makers  in  order  that  the  god  of  commerce  may  be 
satisfied." 

"You  don't  quite  grasp  the  situation/'  said  Saxton. 
"If  you  had  to  get  out  among  these  men  who  have  hard 
work  to  do  every  day  you'd  have  a  different  feeling 
about  such  things.  They've  got  to  make  the  town  go, 
and  this  carnival  is  one  of  the  ways  in  which  they  can 
stir  things  up  commercially,  and  at  the  same  time  give 
pleasure  to  a  whole  lot  of  people." 

"Now  look  here,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  you 
can't  mix  up  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  and  par 
ticularly  women,  in  this  way,  without  making  a  mess 
of  it.  A  man  may  introduce  the  green  grocer  at  the 
corner,  and  all  that  kind  of  ruck,  to  his  wife  and 
daughter,  but  what's  the  good  of  it?" 

"Well,  what's  the  good  of  a  democracy  anyhow?" 
demanded  Saxton.  "I  used  to  have  those  ideas,  too, 
when  I  was  younger,  but  I  thought  it  all  over  when  I 
was  herding  cattle  up  in  Wyoming  and  I  renounced 
such  notions  for  all  time,  even  before  I  went  broke.  I 
found  when  I  got  back  East  that  I  carried  my  new 
convictions  with  me,  and  the  sight  of  civilized  people 
and  good  food  did  not  change  me." 

"Well,  the  girl  oughtn't  to  be  sacrificed  anyhow,"  said 
Warrick,  spitefully. 

Saxton  bit  his  pipe  hard  and  grinned. 

"Look  here,  Raridan,  I'm  afraid  it's  the  girl  and 
not  the  philosophy  of  the  thing  that's  worrying  you. 


86  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

,\Vhy  didn't  you  tell  me  it  was  the  girl,  and  not  the 
social  fabric  generally,  that  you  want  to  defend?" 

Both  Saxton  and  Raridan  were  a-  good  deal  at  the 
Porters'.  He  knew  that  Raridan  had  been  a  playmate 
of  Evelyn's  in  their  youth,  when  the  elder  Porters  and 
Raridans  had  been  friends  and  neighbors.  There  existed 
between  them  the  lighthearted  camaraderie  that  young 
people  carry  from  youth  to  maturity,  and  it  had  touched 
Saxton  with  envy.  As  a  man  having  no  fixed  duties, 
Raridan  sometimes  went,  in  the  middle  of  the  hot  morn 
ings,  to  the  Porter  hilltop,  where  it  was  pleasant  to  sit 
and  talk  to  a  pretty  girl  and  look  down  on  the  seething 
caldron  below,  when  every  other  man  of  the  commun 
ity  was  sweltering  at  the  business  of  earning  his  daily 
bread. 

"You  oughtn't  to  get  so  violent  about  these  things," 
Saxton  went  on  to  say.  "You  will  yourself  be  one  of 
the  ornaments  of  the  show,  and  you  will  dance  before  the 
throne  and  be  glad  of  the  chance.  They  have  a  king, 
don't  they  ?  You  might  get  the  job.  Who's  going  to  be 
king,  by  the  way?" 

"Wheaton,  I  fancy;  the  announcement  hasn't  been 
made  yet." 

"Oh,"  said  Saxton,  significantly.  "Is  this  a  little 
jealousy?  Are  we  sorry  that  we're  not  to  wear  the  royal 
robes  ourself  ?  Well !  well,  I  begin  to  understand !" 

"I  don't  like  that  either,  if  you  want  to  know.  It 
all  gets  back  to  the  accursed  commercial  idea.  Wheaton's 
the  cashier  in  Porter's  bank.  It's  very  fitting  that  the 
president's  daughter  and  the  young  and  brilliant  cashier 
should  be  identified  together  in  a  public  function  like 
this.  No  doubt  Wheaton  is  fixing  it  up." 


WARRY  RARIDAN'S  INDIGNATION        87 

"Well,  why  don't  you  fix  it  up  ?  I  have  been  deluding 
myself  with  the  idea  that  you  were  a  person  of  conse 
quence  in  this  town,  yet  you  admit  that  in  a  mere 
trifling  social  matter  you  are  outwitted,  or  about  to  be, 
by  one  of  these  commercial  persons  you  hate  so  much, 
or  say  you  do/' 

He  spoke  tauntingly,  but  Raridan  was  evidently 
serious  in  his  complaint,  and  Saxton  turned  the  talk 
into  other  channels.  The  Chinese  servant  came  in  pres 
ently  with  a  card  for  Raridan. 

"By  Jove !"  he  exclaimed,  "it's  Bishop  Delafield."  He 
plunged  downstairs  and  returned  immediately  with  a 
man  whose  great  figure  loomed  darkly  in  the  doorway. 
Raridan  made  a  light. 

"We've  been  doing  the  dim,  religious  act  here,"  he 
said,  after  introducing  Saxton.  "The  lightning  out 
there  has  been  fine." 

"You  feel  that  you  can't  trust  me  in  the  dark,"  said 
the  bishop;  "or  perhaps  that  I  won't  appreciate  the 
'dim  religious,'  as  you  call  it.  Turn  down  the  gas  and 
save  my  feelings." 

Saxton  was  well  acquainted  with  Warrick's  zeal  in 
church  matters  and  was  not  surprised  to  find  a  church 
dignitary  in  his  friend's  rooms.  He  had  never  met  the 
Bishop  of  Clarkson  before,  and  he  was  a  little  awe 
struck  at  the  heroic  size  of  this  man  who  had  just  given 
him  so  masculine  a  grasp  of  the  hand  and  so  keen  a 
scrutiny. 

The  bishop  extended  his  vast  bulk  in  Raridan's  easiest 
chair,  and  accepted  a  cigar  from  the  box  which  Warry 
passed  to  him. 

"You've  come  just  in  time  to  save  us  from  fierce  con- 


88  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

tentions,"  said  Earidan,  all  amiability  once  more,  while 
the  bishop  lighted  his  cigar.  He  was  very  bald,  and 
his  head  shone  so  radiantly  that  Saxton  felt  that  he 
could  still  see  it  in  the  dark  after  Warrick  had  turned 
down  the  lights.  There  was  an  atmosphere  about  the 
man  of  great  physical  strength,  and  his  deep-set  eyes 
under  their  shaggy  brows  were  quick  and  penetrating. 
Here  was  a  man  famous  in  his  church  for  the  energy 
and  sacrifice  which  he  had  brought  to  the  work  of  a  mis 
sionary  in  one  of  the  great  Western  dioceses.  He  had 
been  bereft,  in  his  young  manhood,  of  his  wife  and  chil 
dren,  and  had  thereafter  offered  himself  for  the  roughest 
work  of  his  church.  He  was  sixty  years  old  and  for 
twenty  years  had  been  a  bishop,  first  in  a  vast  region 
of  the  farther  Northwest,  where  the  diocesan  limits  were 
hardly  known,  and  where  he  had  traveled  ponyback  and 
muleback  until  called  to  be  the  Bishop  of  Clarkson. 
He  was  famous  as  a  preacher,  and  when  he  appeared 
from  time  to  time  in  the  pulpits  of  Eastern  churches,  he 
swayed  men  mightily  by  the  vigor  and  simplicity  of  his 
eloquence.  He  had,  in  his  younger  days,  been  reckoned 
a  scholar,  but  the  study  of  humanity  at  close  hand  had 
superseded  long  ago  his  interest  in  books  and  learning. 
He  had  a  deep,  melodious  voice  and  there  was  charm 
and  magnetism  in  him,  as  many  people  of  many  sorts 
and  conditions  knew. 

"What's  the  subject,  gentlemen?"  he  asked,  smoking 
contentedly.  "I'm  sure  something  very  serious  must  be 
before  the  house." 

"Mr.  Earidan  has  been  abusing  the  commercialism 
of  his  neighbors,"  said  Saxton. 

"Saxton's  a  new-comer,  Bishop,  and  doesn't  under- 


WAKEY  BAEIDAN'S  INDIGNATION        89 

stand  the  situation  here  as  you  and  I  do.  You  know 
that  Fm  the  only  native  that  dares  to  hold  honest  opin 
ions.  The  rest  all  follow  the  crowd." 

"Keformers  always  have  a  hard  time  of  it/'  said  the 
bishop.  "If  you're  going  to  make  over  your  fellowmen, 
you'll  have  to  get  hardened  to  their  indifference.  But 
what's  the  matter  with  things  to-night;  and  what  are 
you  gentlemen  doing  in  town,  anyway?  Aren't  there 
places  to  go  where  it's  cool  and  where  there  are  pretty 
girls  to  enchant  you  ?" 

Earidan  attacked  the  bishop  about  some  question  of 
ritual  that  was  agitating  the  English  Church.  It  was 
worse  than  Greek  to  Saxton,  but  Earidan  seemed  fully 
informed  about  it,  and  turned  up  the  lights  to  read  a 
paragraph  from  an  English  church  paper  which  was, 
he  protested,  rankly  heretical.  The  bishop  smoked  his 
cigar  calmly  until  Earidan  had  finished. 

"They  tell  me/'  he  said,  when  Earidan  had  concluded 
by  flinging  the.  whole  matter  upon  his  clerical  caller 
with  an  air  of  arraigning  the  entire  episcopate,  "that 
you're  a  pretty  fair  lawyer,  Warry,  only  you  won't  work. 
And  I  hear  occasionally  that  you're  about  to  embrace 
the  ministry.  Now,  just  think  what  a  time  I'd  have 
with  you  on  my  hands !  You  couldn't  get  the  water  hot 
enough  for  me.  Isn't  he  ungracious" — turning  to  Sax- 
ton — "when  I  came  here  for  rest  and  recreation,  to  put 
me  on  trial  for  my  life?  You  ought  to  know,  young 
man,  that  a  bishop  can  be  tried  only  by  his  peers." 

Earidan  threw  down  his  paper,  and  rang  for  the 
Chinaman. 

"When  I  embrace  the  ministry  under  you,  Bishop, 
you  may  be  sure  that  I'll  be  humble  enough  to  be  good." 


90  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

The  Chinaman  brought  a  variety  of  liquids,  from 
which  they  helped  themselves. 

"Don't  be  afraid  of  the  Scotch,  Saxton,"  said  Earidan, 
"the  bishop  has  seen  the  bottle  before." 

The  bishop,  who  was  pouring  seltzer  on  his  lemon 
juice,  smiled  tolerantly  at  Earidan's  chatter,  with  whose 
temper  and  quality  he  had  long  been  familiar,  and  ad 
dressed  himself  to  Saxton.  He  liked  young  men,  and 
had  an  agreeable  way  of  drawing  them  out  and  making 
them  talk  about  themselves.  When  it  was  disclosed 
that  Saxton  had  been  in  the  cattle  business,  the  bishop 
showed  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  range  and  its 
ways. 

"You  see,  the  bishop's  ridden  over  most  of  the  cattle 
country  in  his  day,"  explained  Earidan. 

"And  evidently  not  all  in  Pullman  cars,"  said  Saxton. 

"I'm  considered  a  heavy  load  for  a  cow  pony,"  said 
the  bishop,  smiling  down  at  his  great  bulk,  "so  they  used 
sometimes  to  find  a  mule  for  me." 

"How  are  the  Porters  ?"  he  asked  presently  of  Earl- 
dan. 

"Very  well,  and  staying  on  in  the  heat  with  the 
usual  Clarkson  fortitude." 

"Porter's  one  of  the  men  that  never  rest,"  said  the 
bishop.  "I've  known  him  ever  since  I've  known  the 
West,  and  he's  taken  few  vacations  in  that  time." 

"Well,  he's  showing  signs  of  wear,"  said  Earidan. 
"He's  one  of  the  men  who  begin  with  a  small  business 
where  they  do  all  the  work  themselves,  and  when  the 
business  outgrows  them,  they  never  realize  that  they 
need  help,  or  that  they  can  have  any.  Before  they  made 
Wheaton  cashier,  Porter  carried  the  whole  bank  in  his 


WARRY  RARIDAN'S  INDIGNATION        91 

head.  He's  improving  a  little,  and  has  a  stenographer 
now;  but  he's  nervous  and  anxious  all  the  while  and 
terribly  fussy  over  all  he  does." 

"Wheaton  ought  to  be  a  great  help  to  him/'  said  the 
bishop.  "He  seems  a  steady  fellow,  hard  working  and 
industrious." 

"Oh,  he's  all  those  things,"  Raridan  answered  care 
lessly.  "He'll  never  steal  anybody's  money." 

The  bishop  talked  directly  to  Raridan  about  some 
work  which  it  seemed  the  young  man  had  done  for  him, 
and  rose  to  go.  He  had  been  in  town  only  a  few 
hours,  after  a  business  journey  to  New  York,  and  on 
reaching  his  rooms  had  found  a  summons  calling  him 
to  a  neighboring  jurisdiction,  to  perform  episcopal  func 
tions  for  a  brother  bishop  who  was  ill.  Saxton  and 
Warrick  went  down  to  the  car  with  him,  carrying  the 
battered  suit  cases  which  contained  his  episcopal  robes 
and  personal  effects.  These  cases  showed  rough  usage; 
they  had  been  to  Canterbury  and  had  found  lodging 
many  nights  in  the  sod  houses  of  the  plains. 

"How  do  you  like  him  ?"  asked  Raridan,  as  the  bishop 
climbed  into  a  street  car  headed  toward  the  station. 

"He  looks  like  the  real  thing,"  said  Saxton.  "He 
has  a  voice  and  a  beard  like  a  prophet." 

"He's  a  fine  character, — one  of  the  people  that  under 
stand  things  without  being  told.  A  few  men  and 
women  in  the  world  have  that  kind  of  instinct.  They're 
put  here,  I  guess,  to  help  those  who  don't  understand 
themselves." 


CHAPTEK  VIII 

TIMOTHY  MARGRAVE  MAKES  A  CHOICE 

There  was  a  tradition  that  no  one  had  ever  been 
black-balled  in  the  Knights  of  Midas,  so  when  Timothy 
Margrave  got  Wheaton's  signature  to  an  application  for 
membership  the  cashier  was  beset  by  no  fear  of  rejection. 
The  citizens  of  Clarkson  were  indebted  to  Margrave  for 
many  schemes  for  booming  their  town.  He  lectured 
his  fellow  business  men  constantly  about  their  lack  of 
enterprise. 

"Look  at  Kansas  City/'  he  would  say  at  the  club, 
bending  forward  ponderously  on  his  fat  knees,  "they 
ain't  got  half  the  terminal  facilities  that  we  have, 
and  there  ain't  any  better  country  around  'em,  but 
they're  bigger  than  we  are  and  ahead  of  us  because 
they've  got  more  hustle  than  we  have ;  and  hustle's  what 
makes  a  town, — look  at  Chicago!  But  we've  got  a  lot 
of  salt  mackerel  business  men  here,  so  pickled  in  their 
brine  of  conservatism  that  they  won't  do  anything. 
There's  Billy  Porter;  when  we  want  to  raise  money  to 
help  boom  the  town,  I'm  always  dead  sure  that  Billy 
will  cough  up,  but  you've  got  to  show  'im ; — tell  'im  all 
about  it,  and  he  likes  to  play  with  you  and  guy  you  and 
rub  it  in  before  he  puts  his  name  down.  Now  he  may 
be  a  safe  tanker  and  all  that,  but  I  say  that  there's 

92 


MARGRAVE  MAKES  A  CHOICE  93 

such  a  thing  as  pushing  conservatism  too  damned  far. 
We're  going  to  be  a  long  time  getting  over  the  panic 
and  we've  got  to  give  a  strong  pull  and  all  pull  together 
if  we  get  in  the  procession."  His  voice  rose  as  he  pro 
ceeded.  "Look  at  little  Sioux  City !  busted  wide  open 
and  knocked  over  the  ropes,  but  here  they  come  waltz 
ing  up  again,  as  full  of  sass  as  a  fox  terrier  with  a  flea 
on  his  tail.  Talk  about  grit,  the  time  a  man  wants  to 
show  that  article's  when  he's  busted.  Any  fool  can  be 
cheerful  on  a  bull  market." 

Then  he  would  settle  himself  back  with  a>n  air  of 
complacency,  as  if  he  had  done  all  that  he  could  do 
to  arrest  decay  in  the  town;  if  his  fellow  citizens 
failed  to  rouse  themselves  it  was  not  his  fault.  Mar 
grave  held  no  office  in  the  Knights  of  Midas,  but  this 
was  because  he  had  learned  by  political  experience  that 
it  was  much  simpler  to  lurk  in  the  background  and 
manipulate  the  men  he  placed  in  power.  It  was  on  this 
high  principle  that  he  built  up  the  order  of  the  Knights 
of  Midas  and  directed  its  course  from  the  office  of  the 
general  manager  of  the  Transcontinental.  There  was 
nothing  incongruous  to  him  in  the  annual  ball,  which 
was  the  only  public  social  manifestation  of  the  organiza 
tion.  It  was  he  who  directed  that  twenty  members  be 
chosen  from  the  membership  list  each  year,  to  conduct 
the  purely  social  functions  of  the  ball,  and  that  these 
be  taken  in  alphabetical  order.  Thus  the  Adamses  and 
the  Bakers  and  the  Cummingses,  who  belonged  in  dif 
ferent  constellations,  found  themselves  in  the  same  orbit. 
If  they  were  unacquainted  or  were  enemies  of  long 
standing,  this  did  not  trouble  Margrave  when  the  fact 


94  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

was  brought  to  his  notice.  It  was  time,  he  said,  that 
the  people  of  Clarkson  got  together. 

"We  may  as  well  get  some  work  out  of  Jim  Wheaton," 
he  remarked  to  the  grand  chief  of  the  Knights  of  Midas. 
"He's  pretty  solemn,,  but  Jim  was  solemn  when  he  was  a 
kid  and  worked  for  me.  Porter  and  Thompson  have 
always  been  too  slow  for  this  earth  and  if  we  pull 
Wheaton  in,  it  may  wake  up  the  old  chaps  so  they'll  do 
something  besides  sit  on  the  fence  and  watch  the  rest 
of  us  hustle." 

"See  here/'  said  Norton,  the  grand  chief,  "what's  the 
matter  with  shoving  him  in  for  the  king  of  the  carnival  ? 
We've  got  to  make  a  strong  push  this  year  to  give  tone 
to  the  show  socially;  that's  the  only  way  we  can  keep 
up  the  town  interest.  Having  these  jays  come  in  from 
the  country  won't  do  any  good  unless  we  can  hold  these 
eminently  respectable  people  who  think  they're  Clarkson 
society." 

"You're  dead  right  on  that  point,"  said  Margrave; 
"that's  a  big  card  with  the  jays, — they  think  they  come 
to  town  and  get  right  in  the  push  and  are  tickled  to 
pay  ten  dollars  a  ticket  for  a  taste  of  high  life.  I  tell 
you  what  we'll  do,  we'll  get  Porter  to  let  his  daughter 
appear  as  queen  of  the  carnival,  and  if  that  ain't  a  big 
enough  jolly,  we  can  make  Wheaton  king.  That's  what 
I'd  call  giving  the  Clarkson  National  a  run  for  its 
money.  If  Porter  don't  double  his  subscription  on  the 
strength  of  that—" 

He  looked  at  Norton  and  they  both  laughed. 

A  few  days  later  Margrave  called  on  Wheaton  at  the 
bank.  He  was  a  little  proud  of  having  discovered 


MARGRAVE  MAKES  A  CHOICE  95 

Wheaton.  Since  his  quondam  messenger  had  became  a 
bank  cashier  he  had  begun  to  take  notice  of  him. 

"I  guess  we're  going  to  need  you  to  take  a  star  part  in 
the  carnival  this  year,"  he  said,  leading  him  into  the 
empty  directors'  room  and  looking  carefully  about  to 
make  sure  that  they  were  alone.  "You  see,  we've  been 
casting  about  to  find  a  good  representative  from  among 
the  younger  business  men  to  take  the  part  of  king  in 
the  carnival.  The  board  of  control  are  unanimous  that 
you're  the  man." 

"But  I've  just  gone  into  the  Knights,— there  are 
plenty  of  older  members." 

"That's  the  point !  we  want  new  men  and  you're  just 
the  fellow  we're  after." 

He  had  been  holding  his  hat  in  his  hand  and  wiping 
his  brow  with  his  handkerchief,  and  he  now  backed  to 
ward  the  door,  saying,  without  leaving  Wheaton  time  for 
further  quibble:  * 

"Keep  it  mum.  You  understand  about  that;  we 
always  want  to  jar  the  public.  We'll  put  you  on  to  the 
curves  all  right." 

"I'm  sure  I'm  very  much  surprised,"  said  Wheaton, 

"but— " 

"Oh,  it's  all  fixed,"  said  Margrave,  moving  off. 
"You're  the  only  one  and  we  never  let  anybody  decline. 
It  would  knock  all  the  compliment  out  of  it,  if  we  let 
two  or  three  fellows  refuse  before  we  caught  one  that 
would  accept." 

Wheaton  went  back  to  his  desk,  surprised  and  flat 
tered.  Margrave's  good  will  was  worth  having. 
Wheaton  had  never  outgrown  the  impression  he  formed 
of  Margrave  when,  as  a  boy,  he  had  indexed  letter 


96  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

books  and  received  callers  in  the  general  manager's  outer 
office.  He  knew  that  Mr.  Porter  was  more  respectable 
and  stood  higher  in  the  community,  but  there  was  some 
thing  that  took  hold  of  even  Wheaton's  dull  imagina 
tion  in  the  bolder  achievements  of  Timothy  Margrave, 
who  rolled  over  the  country  in  a  private  car,  dictating, 
when  need  arose,  to  the  legislatures  of  a  chain  of  states, 
and  looming  large  in  the  press's  discussions  of  those 
combinations  and  contests  of  transportation  companies 
which  marked  the  last  years  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
Wheaton  had  acquired  a  banker's  habitual  distrust  of 
men  who  offer  favors;  but  as  this  came  on  the  personal 
invitation  of  one  who  had  no  dealings  with  his  bank  he 
could  see  no  harm  in  accepting. 

Margrave  winked  at  him  a  few  days  later  when  they 
met  at  the  club. 

"The  boys  are  all  glad  you're  going  to  lead  the  show, 
Jim,"  said  the  general  manager;  and  Wheaton  expe 
rienced  a  feeling  of  having  fallen  into  the  larger  cur 
rents  of  Clarkson  life.  Margrave  was  the  man  who, 
more  than  any  other,  made  things  happen  in  Clarkson. 


CHAPTER  IX 

PARLEYINGS 

Evelyn  acted  on  her  father's  suggestion  that  she  ask 
some  friends  to  visit  her,  and  she  summoned  two  of  her 
classmates  to  come  out  for  the  carnival.  She  told  Eari- 
dan  of  their  coming  one  evening  when  they  were  alone, 
and  he  began  propounding  inquiries  about  them  with 
the  zealous  interest,  half  mocking  and  half  earnest, 
which  he  always  manifested  in  girls  that  crossed  his 
horizon. 

"And  Miss  Warren — is  she  the  one  from  Dedham 
Crossing,  Connecticut?  Yes,  I  suppose  they  will  want 
to  go  right  out  to  see  the  Indians.  I'll  see  if  the  War 
Department  won't  lend  us  a  few  from  a  reservation  to 
show  off  with.  It's  too  bad  for  our  guests  to  be  disap 
pointed.  And  Miss  Marshall — she's  from  Virginia? 
It  will  really  be  rather  amusing  to  bring  the  types  to 
gether  on  our  rude  frontier." 

"But  you're  not  to  play  tricks  with  these  friends  of 
mine,  Warrick  Earidan.  You  are  to  be  very  nice  to 
them,  but  you  are  not  to  make  too  much  of  an  impres 
sion — unless — !" 

"I'm  afraid  Miss  Warren's  a  trifle  too  serious  for 
human  nature's  daily  food,"  he  said,  complainingly. 

"Yes  ?  I  remember  that  she  was  strong  in  entomology. 
97 


98  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

She  surely  knows  a  moth  from  a  bumblebee  when  she 
sees  it." 

"Tut !  tut !  One  shouldn't  be  spiteful.  Miss  Warren 
is  a  nice  girl.  She  knows  where  the  pussy  willows  purr 
first  in  the  harsh  Connecticut  spring.  She  is  strong  on 
golden  rod  and  ah-tum  leaves;  she  reads  ' Sesame  and 
Lilies'  once  a  week,  and  Channing's  'Symphony'  hangs 
in  her  room  in  blue  and  gold.  She's  very  sweet  with 
her  Sunday  School  class.  She  shall  be  saluted  with  the 
Chautauqua  salute — thus !"  He  flourished  his  hand 
kerchief  at  a  picture  on  the  wall. 

"How  brutal !  Deliver  me  from  the  cynical  man ! 
By  the  way,  Warry,  I  saw  Minnie  Metchen  in  New 
York  this  spring,  and  she  asked  me  all  the  questions 
about  you  she  dared.  That  really  wasn't  good  of  you. 
She  hadn't  been  an  army  girl  long — her  father  was  a 
new  paymaster,  or  something  like  that;  she  wasn't  fair 
game.  You  were  her  first,  and  she  thought  you  meant 
it  all, — the  poems  and  the  flowers  and  all  that  kind  oi 
thing.  She  thought  you  were  very  good,  too.  You  re 
member,  I  hope,  that  you  dragged  her  across  town  to 
that  colored  mission  where  you  were  lay-reading  at  the 
time.  Now,  you  mustn't  do  that  any  more." 

Randan  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  groaned. 

"My  sins  are  more  than  I  can  bear.  But  I'm  really 
disappointed  in  you.  It  isn't  good  form  in  this  town  to 
remember  from  one  winter  to  another  what  my  enthu 
siasms  have  been.  But,  Evelyn — '; 

His  manner  changed  suddenly  and  he  rose  and  walked 
the  floor.  He  was  so  full  of  mockery,  and  his  fun  took 
so  many  unexpected  turns,  that  Evelyn,  who  had  known 
him  from  his  wilful,  spoiled  childhood,  was  never  sure 


PARLEYINGS  99 

of  his  moods.  He  seemed  very  serious  as  he  stood  before 
her  with  his  arms  folded  and  looked  at,  her.  His  voice 
broke  a  little  as  he  said: 

"Evelyn,  I  don't  want  you  to  remember  this  kind  of 
thing  of  me.  Nobody  takes  me  seriously;  I'm  getting 
tired  of  it,  I'm  all  kinds  of  a  failure.  I  ought  to  be 
doing  things,  like  all  the  other  men  here.  Maybe  it's 
too  late—" 

"No,  it's  never  too  late  to  do  what  we  want  to  do, 
Warry,"  she  said  very  kindly.  "But  I  don't  know  that 
you're  such  a  failure."  She  was  still  on  guard  for  some 
flash  of  the  joke  that  he  was  always  playing. 

"But  it's  a  question  with  me  whether  I  haven't  lost 
my  chance,"  he  persisted.  He  sat  down,  dejectedly. 
Then  he  laughed. 

"Do  you  know  why  I'm  like  the  Juniata  Eiver?"  he 
demanded. 

"I'm  not  good  at  guessing,"  she  answered,  wondering 
whether  he  was  laying  a  trap  for  her. 

"Why,  Captain  Wheelock  told  somebody  that  it  was 
because  I  am  very  beautiful  and  very  shallow."  He 
did  not  laugh  with  her. 

"Those  things  aren't  funny  to  me  any  more,"  he 
declared,  scowling. 

"But  to  be  called  beautiful—" 

"No  man  is  beautiful,"  he  returned  savagely.  "No 
man  wants  to  be  called  that.  It's  my  eye-glasses,  I 
suppose."  He  took  them  off  and  played  with  them. 
"Maybe  they  do  make  me  look  dudish.  I'd  wear  spec 
tacles  if  they  didn't  cut  my  cars.  Or  I  might  go  without 
and  come  to  a  sudden  end  by  walking  over  some  lonely 


100  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

precipice."     He  expected  her  to  remonstrate,  but  she 
said: 

"Well,  I'll  promise  not  to  tell  the  new  visitors  about 
you;"  as  if,  of  course,  this  was  what  he  had  been  lead 
ing  up  to. 

"I  don't  care  anything  about  them." 

"I'm  sorry.  I  had  rather  counted  on  you,  as  the  only 
person  here  who  has  met  them, — and  an  old  friend  of  the 
family." 

He  stood  up  again. 

"But  I  don't  want  to  be  your  friend — " 

"Oh !"  She  seized  and  fortified  all  the  strategic  posi 
tions.  "This  is  certainly  surprising  in  you,  Warrick 
Earidan,  after  all  the  years  I've  known  you.  I  didn't 
expect  to  be  renounced  so  early."  He  stood  looking  at 
her  quizzically,  and  too  fixedly  for  her  comfort. 

"Tragedy  doesn't  become  the  Juniata  type  of  beauty. 
You'd  better  sit  down."  He  had  been  pacing  the  floor, 
but  now  threw  himself  into  a  chair. 

"That  chair,"  she  continued,  "is  a  relic  of  the  In 
quisition.  If  you'll  move  those  cushions  about  a  little 
on  the  divan  you'll  be  a  lot  more  comfortable." 

He  mumbled  that  he  didn't  want  to  be  comfortable, 
but  obeyed. 

"Now,  if  you'll  be  good,"  she  went  on  tranquilly,  fold 
ing  her  arms  and  looking  at  him  benignantly,  "I'll  tell 
you  a  secret." 

He  had  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  sat 
watching  her  sulkily. 

"Well  ?" 

"I'm  to  be  queen  of  the  ball,  sir,  I'm  to  be  queen  of 
the  ball." 


PAELEYINGS  101 

"I'm  sorry  I  can't  congratulate  you/'  he  said  grimly. 
"You  have  no  business  mixing  up  with  their  infernal 
idiocy.  I've  been  expecting  to  hear  that  you'd  refused." 
He  grew  hot  as  he  went  on.  "Your  father  oughtn't  to 
make  you  do  such  a  thing." 

"Warry !"  She  sat  up  straight  and  bent  toward  him 
in  an  attitude  of  remonstrance;  "you  really  mustn't! 
Why,  I'm  amazed  at  you !" 

The  enormity  of  the  thing,  as  Earidan  saw  it,  had 
grown  on  him  since  his  talk  with  Saxton,  and  he  did 
not  relent;  but  he  relaxed  his  severity  for  the  moment, 
to  assume  an  aggrieved  air. 

"Maybe  I'm  presuming  too  far  on  old  acquaintance !" 
he  said  gloomily. 

"I  still  have  that  copy  of  Aldrich  you  gave  me  once, — 
you  remember  that  they 

'Met  as  acquaintances  meet, 

Smiling,  tranquil-eyed— 
Not  even  the  least  little  beat 

Of  the  heart,  upon  either  side !' 

But, — should  old  acquaintance  be  forgot  ?"  she  hummed. 
He  was  still  a  spoilt  boy  who  had  to  be  coaxed  into 
good  humor. 

"You  know  what  I  mean,  Evelyn.  I  feel  a  particular 
interest  in  having  you  start  right  here,  now  that  you've 
come  home  to  stay.  People  will  be  surprised  to  hear 
of  your  taking  a  part  like  that ;  they  want  to  take  you 
seriously.  You've  been  to  college — " 

"Oh,  Warry !"  she  cried  appealingly.  "And  are  you 
to  throw  this  at  me?  A  few  minutes  ago  you  were 
complaining  that  people  wouldn't  take  you  seriously, 


102  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

but  I'm  afraid  they  want  to  take  me  much  too  seri 
ously.  I  don't  like  it !  In  fact,  I  don't  intend  to  have 
it!" 

"But  you  don't  mean  to  get  down  to  a  level  with 
these  girls  who've  been  ground  out  of  boarding  schools, 
and  who  don't  know  anything?  The  kind  that  play 
badly  on  the  piano,  or  sing  worse,  and  come  home  to 
mix  Fifth  Avenue  boarding  school  with  Missouri  River 
every-day  life !" 

"I'm  really  disappointed  in  you,  I  supposed  you 
weren't  like  the  others.  A  few  days  ago  some  estimable 
women  called  here  to  get  me  to  become  a  candidate  for 
school  commissioner.  They  talked  beautifully  to  me. 
There  was  one  of  them,  a  Miss  Morris — "  Raridan  ex 
tended  his  arms  to  Heaven,  as  if  imploring  mercy — 
"who  told  me  that  I  was  a  bachelor  of  arts  and  that  all 
kinds  of  things  were  therefore  to  be  expected  of  me." 

"But  I  don't  mean  that !  It's  just  that  sort  of  thing 
I  think  you  ought  to  keep  free  from, — it's  this  awful 
publicity ;  it's  making  yourself  public  property !  Women 
must  keep  out  of  such  things.  School  commissioner!" 
His  spirits  were  rising  again  and  he  laughed  aloud. 

"Wouldn't  you  vote  for  me?" 

He  stared.    "You're  not  going  to — " 

"Decidedly  not.  I  want  you  to  understand,  and  every 
body  to  find  out  that  I'm  a  very  ordinary  being.  I 
hope  if  I've  learned  anything  in  college  it's  common 
sense.  I  don't  feel  a  bit  interested  in  regulating  the 
universe,  or  in  getting  more  rights  for  women,  or  in 
politics  of  any  kind,  any  more  than  every  sane  woman 
is  interested  in  such  things.  About  this  carnival  and 
the  ball;  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  I  dislike  it  par- 


PARLEYIKGS  103 

ticularly.  But  I'm  going  to  do  it  for  two  reasons,  to 
be  much  franker  with  you  than  you  deserve;  to  please 
father,  for  whom  I  can  do  very  little,  and  to  set  at  rest 
this  idea  about  my  being  a  divinely  gifted  individual 
who  has  come  home  from  college  to  rub  up  the  universe 
with  a  witch  cloth.  And  now,  Warrick  Earidan,  we  will, 
if  you  please,  consider  the  incident  closed;  and  if  you 
are  very  good  you  may  dance  with  me  at  the  ball." 

"Oh,  the  noble  king  will  have  first  place  there." 

"Well,  if  you're  the  king  you  can't  object,"  she  said. 
"I'm  sure  I  don't  know  who  the  king's  to  be— 

"Well,  I  do—" 

"Then  you  needn't  tell  me,  please.  I  want  to  be 
surprised." 

"But  he's  likely  to  be  somebody  you  won't  care  to 
know  under  any  circumstances,"  he  persisted.  His  con 
tempt  for  the  carnival  and  his  rage  at  the  thought  of 
this  girl  being  publicly  identified  with  Wheaton  rose  in 
him  and  he  grew  morose  again,  Evelyn,  seeing  another 
storm  approaching  and  wishing  to  restore  his  good 
humor,  returned  to  her  expected  guests  and  her  plans 
for  entertaining  them. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  in  her  heart  Evelyn  was 
one  of  those  who,  in  Earidan's  own  phrase,  did  not  take 
him  seriously.  She  had  seen  more  of  him  than  of  any 
other  man.  She  had  a  great  fondness  for  him,  and  she 
was  glad  to  find  that  after  her  absences  he  always  came 
to  the  house  as  if  there  had  been  no  break,  and  took  up 
their  pleasant  comradeship  where  they  had  left  it.  She 
had  speculated  not  a  little  as  to  the  violent  flirtations 
which  he  carried  on  so  openly,  and  had  wondered 
whether  he  would  sometime  grow  serious  in  one  of  them, 


104  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

and  what  manner  of  girl  would  finally  steady  him  and 
win  him  to  a  real  affection.  She  did  not  understand 
the  mood  that  had  swayed  him,  or  that  seemed  about  to 
sway  him  to-night;  but  a  woman's  natural  instinct  in 
such  matters  had  warned  her  that  he  wanted  to  change 
their  old  attitude  toward  each  other,  and  she  knew  that 
she  did  not  want  to  change  it.  She  liked  his  gentleness, 
his  humor  and  his  generous  impulses.  She  had  seen 
enough  of  the  world  to  know  that  the  qualities  which  set 
him  apart  from  most  men  were  rare.  His  likings  in 
themselves  were  unusual,  and  though  they  were  not  sin 
cere  enough  for  his  own  good,  they  constituted  an  ele 
ment  of  charm  in  him.  His  easy  susceptibility  was 
amusing;  and  it  was  no  more  marked  in  flirtations 
with  girls  than  in  dallyings  with  books  or  pictures 
or  music.  He  was  certainly  a  delightful  companion, 
almost  as  satisfactory  to  talk  to  as  a  bright  girl !  She 
felt,  though,  that  there  was  a  real  power  in  him;  she 
could  dramatize  him  in  situations  where  he  would  be 
a  leader  of  forlorn  hopes  on  battlefields ;  but  she  stopped 
short  of  loving  him ;  she  had,  she  told  herself,  no  idea 
of  loving  any  one  now;  but  neither  did  she  wish  to  lose 
a  friend  who  was  so  entirely  agreeable  and  charming. 
She  resolved  as  they  sat  talking  of  perfectly  safe  matters, 
that  their  old  footing  must  be  maintained,  and  she  felt 
confident  that  she  could  manage  this. 

"Don't  you  like  John  Saxton  very  much?"  he  asked, 
and  she  felt  that  the  day  was  saved  when  he  would  talk 
of  another  man.  "I  like  him  better  all  the  time." 

"Yes;  people  are  saying  agreeable  things  about  him. 
But  he's  pretty  serious,  isn't  he  ?" 

"Well,  that  makes  him  a  good  companion  for  me,  you 


PARLEYINGS  105 

know.  Acute  gaiety  is  diagnosed  as  my  chief  trouble," 
he  said,  a  little  bitterly.  He  was  trying  to  feel  his 
way  back  to  the  talk  of  an  hour  ago,  but  she  had  re 
solved  not  to  have  it  so. 

"It's  very  nice  of  you  to  be  kind  to  him." 

"If  you  mean  that  I  bring  him  up  here,  that  isn't 
kindness,  it's  just  ordinary  decent  humanity." 

He  was  cheerful  again,  and  he  went  away  assuring  her 
that  he  would  be  at  the  station  to  meet  the  approaching 
visitors  the  following  afternoon.  He  abused  himself,  as 
he  went  down  the  hill  toward  the  electric  lights  of  the 
city,  for  having  permitted  Evelyn  to  defeat  him  in  what 
he  had  intended  to  say.  He  stopped  on  the  long  viaduct 
that  spanned  the  railway  tracks  and  looked  moodily 
down  on  the  lights  of  the  switch  targets  and  the  signal 
lanterns  of  the  trainmen.  Then  he  turned  his  eyes 
toward  the  Porter  house  which  stood  darkly  against  the 
starlit  sky  among  the  trees.  As  he  looked  a  light 
flashed  suddenly  in  the  tower.  He  laughed  softly  to 
himself  as  he  turned  with  a  quickened  step  on  his  way. 

"Maybe  it's  Evelyn,  and  maybe  it's  the  cook;  but 
any  lady  in  a  tower !  The  thought  of  it  doth  please  me 
well." 


CHAPTER  X 

A  WRECKED  CANNA  BED 

Raridan  was  at  the  station  to  meet  Evelyn's  guests, 
as  lie  had  promised.  He  had  established  a  claim  upon 
their  notice  on  the  occasion  of  one  of  his  visits  to  Evelyn 
at  college,  and  he  greeted  them  with  an  air  of  possession 
which  would  have  been  intolerable  in  another  man.  He 
pressed  Miss  Warren  for  news  of  the  Connecticut  nutmeg 
crop,  and  hoped  that  Miss  Marshall  had  not  lost  her 
accent  in  crossing  the  Missouri,  while  he  begged  their 
baggage  checks  and  waved  their  minor  impedimenta  in 
to  the  hands  of  the  station  porters. 

Wise  men,  long  ago,  abandoned  the  hope  of  accounting 
for  college  friendships  in  either  sex,  and  there  was. 
nothing  proved  in  Evelyn's  case  by  her  choice  of  these 
young  women  as  her  intimate  friends.  Annie  Warren 
was  as  reserved  and  quiet  as  Evelyn  could  be  in  her 
soberest  moments;  Belle  Marshall  was  as  frank  and 
friendly  as  Evelyn  became  in  her  lightest  moods.  Evelyn 
had  been  the  beauty  of  her  class ;  her  two  friends  were 
what  is  called,  by  people  that  wish  to  be  kind,  nice  look 
ing.  Annie  Warren  had  been  the  best  scholar  in  her 
class ;  Belle  Marshall  had  been  among  the  poorest ;  and 
Evelyn  had  maintained  a  happy  medium  between  the 
two.  And  so  it  fortunately  happened  that  the  trio  mit 
igated  one  another's  imperfections. 

106 


A  WRECKED  CANNA  BED  107 

Evelyn  had  summoned  her  guests  at  this  time  prin 
cipally  to  have  their  support  through  the  carnival.  They 
made  light  of  the  perplexities  and  difficulties  of  Evelyn's 
own  participation  when  she  unfolded  them ;  there  would 
be  a  lot  of  fun  in  it,  they  thought,  and  they  deemed  it, 
too,  a  recognition  of  Evelyn's  fine  qualities.  They 
were  fresh  from  college  and  they  could  see  nothing 
in  the  carnival  and  the  coronation  of  the  carnival's 
queen  that  was  inconsistent  with  a  girl's  dignity;  it 
ranked  at  least  with  some  of  the  festivals  of  girl's 
colleges.  The  whole  matter  presently  resolved  itself 
into  the  question  of  clothes,  and  Evelyn's  coronation 
gown  was  laid  before  them  and  duly  praised. 

"It  is  worth  while/'  declared  Miss  Marshall,  "to  have 
a  chance  to  wear  clothes  like  that  just  once  in  your  life." 

Evelyn  had  discussed  with  her  father  ways  and  means 
of  entertaining  her  guests;  he  was  anxious  for  her  to 
celebrate  her  home-coming  with  a  great  deal  of  enter 
taining.  He  preferred  large  functions,  perhaps  for  the 
reason  that  he  could  lose  himself  better  in  them  than  in 
small  gatherings,  in  which  his  responsibilities  as  host 
could  not  be  dodged.  In  a  large  company  he  could 
take  one  or  two  of  his  old  friends  into  a  corner  and 
enjoy  a  smoke  with  them.  He  wished  Evelyn  to  give  a 
lawn  party  before  the  blight  of  fall  came  upon  his 
flowers  and  shrubbery;  but  she  persuaded  him  to  wait 
until  after  the  carnival.  He  still  felt  a  little  guilty 
about  having  asked  Evelyn  to  appear  in  this  public 
way,  but  she  showed  no  resentment;  she  was  honestly 
glad  to  do  anything  that  would  please  him.  The  ball 
was  near  at  hand  and  she  proposed  that  they  give  a 
small  dinner  in  the  interval. 


108  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"I'll  ask  Warry  and  Mr.  Saxton."  People  were  al 
ready  coupling  Saxton's  name  with  Karidan's. 

"Oh,  yes,  that's  all  right." 

"I  don't  want  very  many;  I'd  like  to  ask  the  Whip* 
pies;"  she  went  on,  with  the  anxious,  far-away  look 
that  comes  into  the  eyes  of  a  woman  who  is  weighing 
dinner  guests  or  matching  fabrics. 

"Can't  you  ask  Wheaton?"  ventured  Mr.  Porter  cau 
tiously  from  behind  his  paper.  Men  grow  humble  in  such 
matters  from  the  long  series  of  rejections  to  which  they 
are  subjected  by  the  women  of  their  households. 

"If  you  say  so,"  Evelyn  assented.  "He  isn't  exciting, 
but  Belle  Marshall  can  get  on  with  anybody.  I'm  out 
of  practice  and  won't  try  too  many.  Mrs.  Whipple  will 
help  over  the  hard  places." 

Finally,  however,  her  party  numbered  ten,  but  it 
seemed  to  Wheaton  a  large  assemblage.  He  had  never 
taken  a  lady  in  to  dinner  before,  but  he  had  studied  a 
book  of  etiquette,  and  the  chapter  on  "Dining  Out"  had 
given  him  a  hint  of  what  was  expected.  It  had  not, 
however,  supplied  him  with  a  fund  of  talk,  but  he  was 
glad  to  find,  when  he  reached  the  table,  that  the  com 
pany  was  so  small  that  talk  could  be  general,  and  he  was 
thankful  for  the  shelter  made  for  him  by  the  light 
banter  which  followed  the  settling  of  chairs.  Saxton 
went  in  with  Evelyn,  who  wished  to  make  amends  for 
his  clumsy  reception  on  the  occasion  of  his  first  appear 
ance  in  the  house. 

"I'm  glad  you  could  come  to  our  board  once  without 
being  snubbed  by  the  maid,"  she  said  to  John,  when 
they  were  seated. 


A  WRECKED  CANNA  BED  109 

"I  came  under  convoy  of  Mr.  Raridan  this  time.  I 
find  that  he  is  pretty  hard  to  lose." 

"Oh,  he's  a  splendid  guide!  He  declares  that  there 
are  just  as  interesting  things  to  see  here  in  Clarkson 
as  there  are  in  Rome  or  Venice.  He  told  Miss  Warren 
this  afternoon  that  it  would  take  him  a  month  to  show 
her  half  the  sights/' 

"He  certainly  makes  things  interesting.  His  local 
history  is  delightful." 

"Yes;  father  tells  him  that  he  knows  nearly  every 
thing,  but  that  the  pity  is  it  isn't  all  true.  You  see, 
Warry  and  I  have  known  each  other  always.  The 
Randans  lived  very  near  us,  just  over  the  way." 

"He  has  shown  me  the  place;  it's  on  the  clay  sugar 
loaf  across  the  street." 

"Isn't  it  shameful  of  him  not  to  bring  his  ancestral 
home  down  to  the  street  level  ?" 

"Oh,  he  says  he'd  rather  burn  the  money.  It  seems 
that  he  fought  the  assessment  as  long  as  he  could  and 
has  refused  to  abide  by  it.  He  enjoys  fighting  it  in 
the  courts.  It  gives  him  something  to  do." 

"That's  like  Warry.  He  can  be  more  steadfast  in 
error  than  anybody." 

Raridan  was  exchanging  chaff  with  Miss  Marshall 
across  the  table  and  Wheaton  was  stranded  for  the 
moment. 

"You  must  tell  us  about  that  Chinaman  at  your 
bachelors'  house,  Mr.  Wheaton.  Mr.  Raridan  has  told 
me  many  funny  stories  about  him,  but  I  think  he  makes 
up  most  of  them." 

"I'd  hardly  dare  repudiate    any   of    Mr.    Raridan's 


110  THE  MAIN  CHANGE 

stories ;  but  I'll  say  that  we  couldn't  get  on  without  the 
Chinaman.  He's  a  very  faithful  fellow." 

"But  Mr.  Earidan  says  he  isn't!"  exclaimed  Evelyn. 
"He  says  that  you  bachelors  suffer  terribly  from  his 
mistakes,  and  that  he  can't  keep  any  rice  for  use  at 
weddings  because  the  Oriental  takes  it  out  of  his  pockets 
and  makes  puddings  of.it." 

"That  must  be  one  of  Mr.  Randan's  jokes/'  said 
Whcaton.  "We  have  had  no  rice  pudding  since  I  went 
to  live  at  The  Bachelors'."  Wheaton  was  suspicious  of 
Earidan's  jokes.  He  was  not  always  sure  that  he  caught 
the  point  of  them.  He  saw  that  Saxton,  who  sat  oppo 
site  him,  got  on  very  well  with  Miss  Porter,  and  he 
was  surprised  at  this;  he  had  thought  Saxton  very 
slow,  and  yet  he  seemed  to  be  as  much  at  his  ease  as 
Earidan,  who  was  Wheaton's  ideal  master  of  social 
accomplishment.  He  was  somewhat  dismayed  by  the 
array  of  silver  beside  his  plate,  and  he  found  him 
self  covertly  taking  his  cue  from  Saxton,  who  seemed 
to  make  his  choice  without  difficulty.  It  dawned  on 
him  presently  that  the  forks  and  spoons  were  arranged 
in  order ;  that  it  was  not  necessary  to  exercise  any  judg 
ment  of  selection,  and  he  felt  elated  to  see  how  easily 
it  was  managed.  In  his  relief  he  engaged  Miss  Marshall 
in  a  talk  about  Eichmond.  He  knew  the  names  of  banks 
and  bankers  there,  from  having  looked  them  up  in  the 
bank  directories  in  the  course  of  business.  He  liked  the 
Southern  girl's  vivacity,  though  he  thought  Evelyn  much 
handsomer  and  more  dignified.  She  asked  him  whether 
lie  played  golf,  which  had  just  been  introduced  into 
Clarkson,  and  he  was  forced  to  admit  that  he  did  not; 
and  he  ventured  to  add  that  he  had  heard  it  called 


A  WRECKED  CANNA  BED  111 

an  old  man's  game.  When  she  replied  that  she^  shouldn't 
imagine  then  that  it  would  interest  him  particularly,  he 
felt  foolish  and  could  not  think  of  anything  to  say 
in  reply.  Earidan  again  claimed  Miss  Marshall's  atten 
tion,  and  Wheaton  was  drawn  into  talk  with  Evelyn  and 
Saxton. 

"Mr.  Saxton  has  never  seen  one  of  our  carnivals/' 
she  said,  "and  neither  have  I.  You  know  I've  missed 
them  by  being  away  so  much." 

"They  expect  to  have  a  great  entertainment  this  year/' 
said  Wheaton.  He  was  sorry  for  the  secrecy  with  which 
the  names  of  the  principal  participants  were  guarded; 
he  would  have  liked  to  say  something  to  Miss  Porter 
about  it,  but  he  did  not  dare,  with  Saxton  listening. 
Moreover,  he  was  not  sure  that  she  had  consented  to 
take  part. 

"I  suppose  it's  a  good  deal  like  amateur  theatricals, 
only  on  a  larger  scale,"  suggested  Saxton. 

"That's  not  taking  the  carnival  in  the  right  spirit," 
said  Evelyn.  "The  word  amateur  is  jarring,  I  think. 
We  must  try  to  imagine  that  King  Midas  really  and 
truly  comes  floating  down  the  Missouri  Eiver  on  a 
barge,  supported  by  his  men  of  magic,  and  that  they 
are  met  by  a  delegation  of  the  wise  men  of  Clarkson, 
all  properly  clad,  and  escorted  to  the  local  parthenon, 
or  whatever  it  is  called,  where  the  keys  of  the  city  are 
given  to  him.  I'm  sure  it's  all  very  plausible." 

"But  I  don't  see,"  said  Saxton,  "why  all  the  western 
towns  that  go  in  for  these  carnivals  have  to  go  back  to 
mythology  and  medieval  customs.  Why  don't  they  use 
something  indigenous, — the  Indians  for  instance?" 

"They're  too  recent,"  Evelyn  answered.    "The  people 


112  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

around  here — a  good  many  of  them,  at  least — were  here 
before  the  savages  had  all  gone.  And  those  whose 
fathers  and  mothers  were  scalped  might  take  it  as  un 
pleasantly  suggestive  if  a  lot  of  white  men,  dressed  up 
as  Indians,  paraded  themselves  through  the  streets." 

"What  was  that  about  Indians  ?"  demanded  Mr.  Por 
ter,  who  had  been  busy  exchanging  reminiscences  with 
Mrs.  Whipple.  "Why,  there  hasn't  been  an  Indian  on 
the  place  for  twenty  years!" 

"Oh  yes,  there  has,  father,"  said  Evelyn.  "It  was 
only  five  years  ago  that  there  were  two  in  this  room. 
Don't  you  remember,  when  Warry  had  his  hobby  for 
educating  Indian  youth?  He  brought  those  boys  up 
here  for  Christmas  dinner." 

"I  remember;  and  they  didn't  like  turkey,"  added 
Mr.  Porter.  "They  were  hungry  for  their  native  bear 
meat." 

"It's  too  bad,"  said  Earidan  sorrowfully,  "that  a  man 
never  can  live  down  his  good  deeds." 

Earidan  liked  to  pretend  that  Clarkson  society  had  a 
deep  philosophy  which  he  alone  understood.  He  had 
fallen  into  his  favorite  role  as  a  social  sage  for  the 
benefit  of  the  strangers,  and  Mrs.  Whipple  was  correct 
ing  or  denying  what  he  said.  He  had  assured  the  table 
that  the  supreme  social  test  was  whether  people  could 
walk  on  their  own  hardwood  floors  and  rugs  without 
taking  the  long  slide  into  eternity.  Philistines  could 
buy  hardwood  floors,  but  only  the  elect  could  walk  on 
them. 

"Society  in  Clarkson  is  easily  classified,"  said  Earidan 
readily,  as  though  he  had  often  given  thought  to  this 
subject.  "There  are  three  classes  of  homes  in  this  town, 


A  WRECKED  CANNA  BED  113 

namely,,  those  in  which  no  servants  are  kept,  those  in 
which  two  are  kept,  and  those  in  which  the  maids  wear 
caps/' 

"Warry  is  going  from  bad  to  worse,"  declared  Mrs. 
Whipple,  "I'm  sure  he  could  give  in  advance  the  menu 
of  any  dinner  he's  asked  to." 

"A  tax  on  the  memory  and  not  on  the  imagination/' 
retorted  Warry. 

Miss  Warren  was  asking  Mr.  Porter's  opinion  of  local 
political  conditions  which  were  just  then  attracting  wide 
spread  attention.  Mr.  Porter  was  expressing  his  dis 
trust  of  a  leader  who  had  leaped  into  fame  by  a  violent 
arraignment  of  the  rich. 

"It  wouldn't  be  so  terribly  hard  for  us  all  to  get  rich/' 
said  Warry.  "I  sometimes  marvel  at  the  squalor  about 
us.  All  that  a  man  need  do  is  to  concentrate  his  atten 
tion  on  one  thing,  and  if  he  is  capable  of  earning  a 
dollar  a  day  he  can  just  as  easily  earn  ten  thousand  a 
year.  Why" — he  continued  earnestly,  "I  knew  a  fel 
low  in  Peoria,  who  devised  a  scheme  for  building  dupli 
cates  of  some  of  the  architectural  wonders  of  the  Old 
World  in  American  cities.  His  plan  was  to  send  out  a 
million  postal  cards  inviting  a  dollar  apiece  from  a 
million  people.  Almost  anybody  can  give  away  a  dollar 
and  not  miss  it." 

"How  did  the  scheme  work  ?"  asked  Mr.  Porter. 

"It  wasn't  tested,"  answered  Warry.  "The  doctors  in 
the  sanitarium  wouldn't  let  him  out  long  enough  to 
mail  his  postal  cards." 

General  Whipple  persuaded  Miss  Marshall  to  tell  a 
negro  story,  which  she  did  delightfully,  while  the  table 
listened.  Southerners  are,  after  all,  the  most  natural 


Ill  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

talkers  we  have  and  the  only  ones  who  can  talk  freely  of 
themselves  without  offense.  Her  speech  was  musical, 
and  she  told  her  story  with  a  nice  sense  of  its  dramatic 
quality.  At  the  climax,  after  the  laughter  had  abated, 
she  asked,  with  an  air  of  surprise  at  their  pleasure  in 
her  tale: 

"Didn't  you  all  ever  hear  that  story  before  ?"  She  was 
guiltless  of  final  r's,  and  her  drawl  was  delicious. 

"Oh,  Miss  Marshall !  I  knew  you'd  say  it !"  Earidan 
appealed  to  the  others  to  be  sure  of  witnesses. 

"What  are  you  all  laughing  at?"  demanded  the  girl, 
flushing  and  smiling  about  her. 

"Oh,  you  did  it  twice !" 

"I  didn't  say  it,  Mr.  Earidan,"  she  said,  with  dignity. 
"I  never  said  that  after  I  went  North  to  school." 

"Well,  Belle,"  said  Evelyn,  "I'm  heartily  ashamed  of 
you.  After  all  we  did  in  college  to  break  you  of  it, 
you  are  at  it  again  though  you've  been  only  a  few  months 
away  from  us." 

"It's  hopeless,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Miss  Warren.  "You 
know,  Evelyn,  she  said  1-alls'  when  she  first  came  to 
college." 

They  had  their  coffee  on  the  veranda,  where  the  lights 
from  within  made  a  pleasant  dusk  about  them.  Porter's 
heart  was  warm  with  the  joy  of  Evelyn's  home-coming. 
She  had  been  away  from  him  so  much  that  he  was  real 
izing  for  the  first  time  the  common  experience  of  fathers, 
who  find  that  their  daughters  have  escaped  suddenly  and 
inexplicably  from  girlhood  into  womanhood;  and  yet 
the  girl  heart  in  her  had  not  lost  its  freshness  nor  its 
thirst  for  pleasure.  She  had  carried  off  her  little  com- 


A  WRECKED  CAOTA  BED  115 

pany  charmingly;    Porter  had  enjoyed  it  himself,  and 
he  felt  young  again  in  the  presence  of  youth. 

General  Whipple  had  attached  himself  to  one  of  the 
couples  of  young  people  that  were  strolling  here  and 
there  in  the  grounds.  Porter  and  Mrs.  Whipple  held 
the  veranda  alone;  both  were  unconsciously  watching 
Evelyn  and  Saxton  as  they  walked  back  and  forth  in 
front  of  the  house,  talking  gaily;  and  Porter  smiled 
at  the  eagerness  and  quickness  of  her  movements.  Sax- 
ton's  deliberateness  contrasted  oddly  with  the  girl's  light 
step.  Such  a  girl  must  marry  a  man  worthy  of  her; 
there  could  be  no  question  of  that;  and  for  the  first 
time  the  thought  of  losing  her  rose  in  his  heart  and 
numbed  it. 

Porter's  cigar  had  gone  out,  a  fact  to  which  Mrs. 
Whipple  called  his  attention. 

"I've  heard  that  it's  a  great  compliment  for  a  man  to 
let  his  cigar  go  out  when  he's  talking  to  a  woman.  But 
I  don't  believe  my  chatter  was  responsible  for  it  this 
time."  She  nodded  toward  Evelyn,  as  if  she  understood 
what  had  been  in  his  thought. 

"She's  very  fine.  Both  handsome  and  sensible,  and 
at  our  age  we  known  how  rare  the  combination  is." 

"I  shall  have  to  trust  you  to  keep  an  eye  on  her.  I 
want  her  to  know  the  right  people."  He  spoke  between 
the  flashes  of  the  cigar  he  was  relighting. 

"Don't  worry  about  her.  You  may  trust  her  around 
the  world.  Evelyn  has  already  manifested  an  interest  in 
my  advice,"  she  added,  smiling  to  herself  in  the  dark, — • 
"and  she  didn't  seem  much  pleased  with  it!" 

Evelyn  and  Saxton  had  met  the  others,  who  were  com 
ing  up  from  the  walks,  and  there  was  a  redistribution  at 


116  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

the  house;  it  was  too  beautiful  to  go  in,  they  said,  and 
the  strolling  abroad  continued.  A  great  flood  of  moon 
light  poured  over  the  grounds.  A  breeze  stole  up  from 
the  valley  and  made  a  soothing  rustle  in  the  trees.  Eve 
lyn  rescued  Wheaton  and  Miss  Warren  from  each  other; 
she  sent  Raridan  away  to  impart,  as  he  said,  further 
western  lore  to  the  Yankee.  She  followed,  with  Whea 
ton,  the  arc  which  the  others  were  transcribing.  A  feel 
ing  of  elation  possessed  him.  The  tide  of  good  fortune 
was  bearing  him  far,  but  memory  played  hide  and  seek 
with  him  as  he  walked  there  talking  to  Evelyn  Porter; 
he  was  struck  with  the  unreality  of  this  new  experience. 
He  was  afraid  of  blundering;  of  failing  to  meet  even 
the  trifling  demands  of  her  careless  talk.  He  remem 
bered  once,  in  his  train-boy  days,  having  pressed  upon 
a  pretty  girl  one  of  Miss  Braddon's  novels;  and  the 
girl's  scornful  rejection  of  the  book  and  of  himself  came 
back  and  mocked  him.  Randan's  merry  laugh  rang 
out  suddenly  far  across  the  lawn;  he  had  done  more 
with  his  life  than  Earidan  would  ever  do  with  his; 
Raridan  was  a  foolish  fellow.  Saxton  passed  f,hem 
with  Miss  Marshall;  Saxton  was  dull;  he  had  failed 
in  the  cattle  business.  James  Wheaton  was  not  a  town's 
jester,  and  he  was  not  a  failure.  Evelyn  was  telling 
him  some  of  Belle  Marshall's  pranks  at  school. 

"She  was  the  greatest  cut-up.  I  suppose  she'll  never 
change.  I  don't  believe  we  do  change  so  much  as  the 
wiseacres  pretend,  do  you  ?" 

She  was  aware  that  she  had  talked  a  great  deal  and 
threw  out  this  line  to  him  a  little  desperately;  h&  was 
proving  even  more  difficult  than  she  had  imagined  him. 


A  WEECKED  CANXA  BED  117 

He  had  been  thinking  of  his  mother — forgotten  these 
many  years — who  was  old  even  when  he  left  home.  He 
remembered  her  only  as  the  dominant  figure  of  the 
steaming  kitchen  where  she  had  ministered  with  rough 
kindness  and  severity  to  her  uncouth  brood.  His  sis 
ters — what  loutish,  brawling  girls  they  were,  and  how 
they  fought  over  whatever  silly  finery  they  were  able  to 
procure  for  themselves !  A  faint  flower-scent  rose  from 
the  soft  skirts  of  the  tall  young  woman  beside  him.  He 
hated  himself  for  his  memories. 

He  felt  suddenly  alarmed  by  her  question,  which 
seemed  to  aim  at  the  undercurrent  of  his  own  silent 
thought. 

"There  are  those  of  us  who  ought  to  change,"  he  said. 

The  others  had  straggled  back  toward  the  veranda 
and  were  disappearing  indoors. 

"They  seem  to  be  going  in.  We  can  find  our  way 
through  the  sun-porch;  I  suppose  it  might  be  called  a 
moon-porch,  too/'  she  said,  leading  the  way. 

They  heard  the  sound  of  the  piano  through  the  open 
windows,  and  a  girl's  voice  broke  gaily  into  song. 

"It's  Belle.  She  does  sing  those  coon  songs  wonder 
fully.  Let  us  wait  here  until  she  finishes  this  one." 
The  sun-porch  opened  from  the  dining-room.  They 
could  see  beyond  it,  into  the  drawing-room;  the  singer 
was  in  plain  view,  sitting  at  the  piano;  Earidan  stood 
facing  her,  keeping  time  with  an  imaginary  baton. 

A  man  came  unobserved  to  the  glass  door  of  the  porch 
and  stood  unsteadily  peering  in.  He  was  very  dirty  and 
balanced  himself  in  that  abandon  with  which  intoxi 
cated  men  belie  Newton's  discovery.  He  had  gained  the 


118  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

top  step  with  difficulty;  the  light  from  the  window 
blinded  him  and  for  a  moment  he  stood  within  the  in- 
closure  blinking.  An  ugly  grin  spread  over  his  face  as 
he  made  out  the  two  figures  by  the  window,  and  he  began 
a  laborious  journey  toward  them.  He  tried  to  tiptoe, 
and  this  added  further  to  his  embarrassments;  but  the 
figures  by  the  window  were  intent  on  the  song  and  did 
not  hear  him.  He  drew  slowly  nearer;  one  more  step 
and  he  would  have  concluded  his  journey.  He  poised 
on  his  toes  before  taking  it,  but  the  law  of  gravitation 
now  asserted  itself.  He  lunged  forward  heavily,  casting 
himself  upon  Wheaton,  and  nearly  knocking  him  from 
his  feet. 

"Jimmy,"  he  blurted  in  a  drunken  voice.     "Jim-my !" 

Evelyn  turned  quickly  and  shrank  back  with  a  cry. 
Wheaton  was  slowly  rallying  from  the  shock  of  his  sur 
prise.  He  grabbed  the  man  by  the  arms  and  began 
pushing  him  toward  the  door. 

"Don't  be  alarmed,"  he  said  over  his  shoulder  to 
Evelyn,  who  had  shrunk  back  against  the  wall.  "Ill 
manage  him." 

This,  however,  was  not  so  easily  done.  The  tramp,  as 
Evelyn  supposed  him  to  be,  had  been  sobered  by 
Wheaton's  attack.  He  clasped  his  fingers  about  Whea 
ton's  throat  and  planted  his  feet  firmly.  He  clearly 
intended  to  stand  his  ground,  and  he  dug  his  fingers 
into  Wheaton's  neck  with  the  intention  of  hurting. 

"Father !"  cried  Evelyn  once,  but  the  song  was  grow 
ing  noisier  toward  its  end  and  the  circle  about  the  piano 
did  not  hear.  She  was  about  to  call  again  when  a  heavy 
step  sounded  outside  on  the  walk  and  Bishop  Delafield 
came  swiftly  into  the  porch.  He  had  entered  the 


A  WRECKED  CAOTA  BED  119 

grounds  from  the  rear  and  was  walking  around  the  house 
to  the  front  door. 

"Quick !  that  man  there,— I'll  call  the  others !"  cried 
Evelyn,  still  shrinking  against  the  wall.  Wheaton  had 
been  forced  to  his  knees  and  his  assailant  was  choking 
him.  But  there  was  no  need  of  other  help.  The  bishop 
had  already  seized  the  tramp  about  the  body  with  his 
great  hands,  tearing  him  from  Wheaton's  neck.  He 
strode,  with  the  squirming  figure  in  his  grasp,  toward  an 
open  window  at  the  back  of  the  glass  inclosure,  and 
pushed  the  man  out.  There  was  a  great  snorting  and 
threshing  below.  The  hill  dipped  abruptly  away  from 
this  side  of  the  house  and  the  man  had  fallen  several 
feet,  into  a  flower  bed. 

"Get  away  from  here/'  the  bishop  said,  in  his  deep 
roice,  "and  be  quick  about  it."  The  man  rose  and  ran 
swiftly  down  the  slope  toward  the  street. 

The  bishop  walked  back  to  the  window.  The  others 
had  now  hurried  out  in  response  to  Evelyn's  peremptory 
calls,  and  she  was  telling  of  the  tramp's  visit,  while 
Wheaton  received  their  condolences,  and  readjusted  his 
tie.  His  collar  and  shirt-front  showed  signs  of  contact 
with  dirt. 

"It  was  a  tramp,"  said  Evelyn,  as  the  others  plied  her 
with  questions,  "and  he  attacked  Mr.  Wheaton." 

"Where's  he  gone  ?"  demanded  Porter,  excitedly. 

"There  he  goes,"  said  the  bishop,  pointing  toward  the 
window.  "He  smelled  horribly  of  whisky,  and  I  dropped 
him  gently  out  of  the  window.  The  shock  seems  to 
have  inspired  his  legs." 

"I'll  have  the  police — /'  began  Porter. 


120  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"Oh,  he's  gone  now,  Mr.  Porter,"  said  Wheaton  coolty, 
as  he  restored  his  tie.  "Bishop  Delafield  disposed  of 
him  so  vigorously  that  he'll  hardly  come  hack." 

"Yes,  let  him  go,"  said  the  bishop,  wiping  his  hands 
on  his  handkerchief.  "I'm  only  afraid,  Porter,  that  I've 
spoiled  your  best  canna  bed." 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  KNIGHTS   OF    MIDAS   BALL 

There  were  two  separate  and  distinct  sides  to  the  an 
nual  carnival  of  the  Knights  of  Midas.  The  main  object 
to  which  the  many  committees  on  arrangements  ad 
dressed  themselves  was  the  assembling  in  Clarkson  of  as 
many  people  as  could  be  collected  by  assiduous  advertis 
ing  and  the  granting  of  special  privileges  by  the  rail 
roads.  The  streets  must  be  filled,  and  to  fill  them  and 
keep  them  filled  it  was  necessary  to  entertain  the  masses ; 
and  this  was  done  by  providing  what  the  committee  on 
publicity  and  promotion  proclaimed  to  be  a  monster 
Pageant  of  Industry.  The  spectacle  was  not  tawdry  nor 
ugly.  It  did  not  lack  touches  of  real  beauty.  The  gaily 
decked  floats,,  borne  over  the  street  car  tracks  by  trol 
leys,  were  like  barges  from  a  pageant  of  the  Old  World 
in  the  long  ago,  impelled  by  mysterious  forces.  From 
many  floats  fireworks  summoned  the  heavens  to  behold 
the  splendor  and  bravery  of  the  parade.  The  procession 
was  led  by  the  Knights  of  Midas,  arrayed  in  yellow  robes 
and  wearing  helmets  which  shone  with  all  the  effulgence 
of  bright  tin.  There  was  a  series  of  floats  on  which 
Commerce,  Agriculture,  Transportation  and  Manufac 
turing  were  embodied  and  deified  in  the  persons  of  sun 
dry  young  women,  posed  in  appropriate  attitudes  and 
lifted  high  on  uncertain  pedestals  for  the  admiration  of 

121 


122  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

the  multitude.  On  other  cars  men  followed  strenuously 
their  callings;  coopers  hammered  hoops  upon  their 
barrels;  a  blacksmith,,  with  an  infant  forge  at  his  com 
mand,  made  the  sparks  fly  from  his  anvil  as  his  float 
rumbled  by.  An  enormous  steer  was  held  in  check  by 
ropes,  and  surrounded  by  murderous  giants  from  the 
abattoirs ;  Gambrinus  smiled  down  from  a  proud  height 
of  kegs  on  men  that  bottled  beer  below.  Many  brass 
bands,  including  a  famous  cowboy  band  from  Lone 
Prairie,  and  an  Indian  boy  band  from  a  Wyoming  reser 
vation,  played  the  newest  and  most  dashing  marches  of 
the  day.  Thus  were  the  thrift,  the  enterprise,  the 
audacity,  and  the  generosity  of  the  people  of  Clarkson 
exemplified. 

Such  was  the  first  night's  entertainment.  The  crowd 
which  was  brought  to  town  to  spend  its  money  certainly 
was  not  defrauded.  The  second  night,  it  was  treated  to 
band  concerts,  a  horse-show  and  other  entertainments, 
while  the  Knights  of  Midas  closed  the  door  of  their 
wooden  temple  upon  all  but  their  chosen  guests.  These 
were,  of  course,  expected  to  pay  a  certain  sum  for  their 
tickets,  and  the  sum  was  not  small.  The  Knights  of 
Midas  ball  was  not,  it  should  be  said,  a  cheap  affair. 
Raridan  and  Saxton  had  taken  a  balcony  box  for  the  ball 
and  they  asked  Evelyn's  guests  to  share  it  with  them. 
Raridan  still  growled  to  Saxton  over  what  he  called 
Evelyn's  debasement,  but  he  had  said  nothing  more  to 
Evelyn  about  it. 

"Here's  to  the  deification  of  Jim  Wheaton,"  he  sighed, 
as  he  and  Saxton  waited  for  the  young  ladies  in  the 
Porter  drawing-room. 

Saxton  grinned  at  him  unsympathetically. 


THE  KNIGHTS  OF  MIDAS  BALL        123 

"Stop  sighing  like  an  air-brake.  You  will  be  dancing 
yourself  to  death  in  an  hour." 

When  the  two  young  women  came  in,  Raridan's  spirits 
brightened.  Evelyn  was,  Miss  Marshall  declared,  "per 
fectly  adorable"  in  her  gown ;  but  the  young  men  did  not 
see  her.  She  was  to  go  later  with  her  father. 

They  were  early  at  the  hall,  whose  bareness  had  been 
relieved  by  a  gay  show  of  bunting  and  flags. 

"I  will  now  give  you  a  succinct  running  account  of 
the  first  families  of  this  community  as  they  assemble," 
Raridan  announced,  when  they  had  settled  in  their 
chairs.  There  were  no  scats  on  the  main  floor,  as  the 
ceremonial  part  of  the  entertainment  was  brief,  and 
the  greater  number  of  the  spectators  stood  until  it  was 
over.  An  aisle  was  kept  down  the  middle  of  the  hall 
and  on  each  side  the  crowd  gossiped,  while  a  band  high 
above  played  popular  airs. 

"We're  all  here,"  said  Raridan,  when  the  band  rested. 
"The  butcher,  the  baker  and  the  candlestick-maker;  also 
probably  some  of  our  cooks.  We  are  the  spectators  at 
one  of  Nero's  matinees;  the  goodly  knights  are  ready 
for  combat,  and  those  who  have  had  practice  in  the 
adjacent  packing  houses  have  the  best  chance  of  winning 
the  victory.  There  comes  Tim  Margrave,  one  of  the 
merriest  of  them  all,  full  of  Arthurian  valor  and  as  gen 
tle  a  knight  as  ever  held  lance  or  bought  a  city  council. 
And  there  is  the  master  of  our  largest  and  goriest  abat 
toir.  That  is  not  a  star  on  his  chest,  but  a  diamond  pig, 
rampant  on  a  field  of  dress-shirt,.  He  used  to  wear  it 
on  his  watch-chain,  but  it  was  too  inconspicuous  there  — 

'On  his  breast  a  five-point  star 

Points  the  way  that  his  kingdoms  are/ '' 


124:  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

Miss  Marshall  was  scrutinizing  the  man  indicated 
through  her  opera  glasses. 

"Why,  it  is  SL  pig !"  she  declared. 

"Of  course  it  is,"  said  Warry,  with  an  aggrieved  air. 
"I  hope  you  don't  think  Fd  fib  about  it.  Now,  the  girl 
over  there  by  the  window,  with  the  young  man  with  the 
pompadour  hair,  is  Mabel  Margrave,  whose  father  you 
saw  a  minute  ago.  She  is  looking  this  way  with  her 
lorgnette ;  but  don't  flinch ;  there's  only  the  plain  win 
dow  glass  of  our  rude  western  commerce  in  it;  she 
handles  it  awfully  well,  though." 

"And  the  man  coming  in  who  looks  like  a  statesman  ?" 
asked  Miss  Marshall. 

"That's  Wilkins,  the  boy  orator  of  the  Eange.  He 
palpitates  with  Ciceronian  speech.  He's  our  greatest 
authority  on  the  demonetization  of  wampum.  The 
young  man  who's  talking  to  him  is  telling  him  what  hot 
stuff  lie  is,  and  that  the  speech  he  made  at  Tin  Cup, 
Texas,  last  week  on  the  'Inequalities  of  Taxation'  is  the 
warmest  little  speech  that  has  been  made  in  this  country 
since  Patrick  Henry  died.  He's  a  good  thing, — Wilkins. 
The  Indians  back  on  the  reservation,  where  he  goes  to 
raise  the  wolf's  mournful  howl  when  white  people  won't 
listen  to  him,  call  him  Young-man-not-afraid-of-his- 
voicc.  Our  Chinaman  calls  him  Yung  Lung.  Quite  a 
character,  Wilkins." 

"And,"  Miss  Warren  inquired,  "the  grave,  handsome 
man,  who  must  be  an  eminent  jurist  ?" 

"He  does  one's  laundry,"  Earidan  replied,  "and," 
looking  at  his  cuffs  critically,  "he  does  it  rather  de 
cently." 

"There's  another  side  to  this,"  said  Saxton  to  Miss 


THE  KNIGHTS  OF  MIDAS  BALL         125 

Warren,  while  Earidan  babbled  on  to  the  pretty  Vir 
ginian.  "These  people  have  had  a  terribly  hard  time  of 
it.  They've  been  through  a  panic  that  would  have  killed 
an  ordinary  community;  a  good  many  of  the  nicest  of 
them  have  had  to  begin  over  again ;  and  it's  uphill  work. 
It  isn't  so  funny  when  we  consider  that  these  older  peo 
ple  have  tried  their  level  best  to  make  the  wilderness 
blossom  as  the  rose,,  and  after  they'd  made  a  fine  begin 
ning  the  desert  repossessed  it.  There's  something 
splendid  in  their  courage." 

"Yes,  it's  hard  for  us  who  live  on  the  outside  to  appre 
ciate  it.  And  they  seem  such  nice  people,  too." 

"Don't  they!  They're  big-hearted  and  plucky  and 
generous !  Eastern  people  don't  begin  to  appreciate  the 
people  who  do  their  rough  work  for  them." 

The  other  boxes  and  the  gallery  had  filled,  and  the 
main  floor  was  crowded,  save  where  the  broad  aisle  had 
been  maintained  down  the  center  from  the  front  door  to 
the  stage.  A  buzz  of  talk  floated  over  the  hall.  The 
band  was  silent  while  its  leader  peered  down  upon  the 
floor  waiting  his  signal.  He  turned  suddenly  and  the 
trumpets  broke  forth  into  the  notes  of  a  dignified  march. 
All  eyes  turned  to  the  front  of  the  hall,  where  the 
knights,  in  their  robes,  preceded  by  the  grand  seneschal, 
bearing  his  staff  of  office,  were  emerging  slowly  from  the 
outer  door  into  the  aisle.  When  the  stage  was  reached, 
the  procession  formed  in  long  lines,  facing  inward  on 
the  steps,  making  a  path  through  which  the  governors, 
who  were  distinguished  by  scarlet  robes,  came  attending 
the  person  of  the  king. 

"All  hail  the  king !"     A  crowd  of  knights  in  evening 


126  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

dress,  who  were  honorary  members  of  the  organization 
and  had  no  parts  in  costume,  sent  up  the  shout. 

"Hail  to  Midas !" 

"Isn't  he  noble  and  grand  ?"  shouted  Earidan  in  Miss 
Marshall's  ear.  A  murmur  ran  through  the  hall  as 
Wheaton  was  recognized;  his  name  was  passed  to  those 
who  did  not  know  him,  and  everybody  applauded.  He 
was  really  imposing  in  the  robes  of  his  kingship. 
He  walked  with  a  fitting  deliberation  among  his  escort. 
He  was  conscious  of  the  lights,  the  applause,  the  music, 
and  of  the  fact  that  he  was  the  center  of  it  all.  The 
cheers  were  subsiding  as  the  party  neared  the  throne. 

"I'll  wager  he's  badly  frightened,"  said  Earidan  to 
Saxton. 

"Don't  you  think  it,"  declared  Saxton,  "he  looks  as 
cool  as  a  cucumber." 

"Oh,  he's  cool  enough,"  grumbled  Earidan. 

"You  see  what  envy  will  do  for  a  man,"  remarked 
Saxton  to  Miss  Marshall.  "Mr.  Earidan's  simply  per 
ishing  because  he  isn't  there  himself.  But  what's  this  ?" 

The  king  had  reached  his  throne  and  faced  the  audi 
ence.  All  the  knights  bowed  low ;  the  king  returned  the 
salutation  while  the  audience  cheered. 

"It's  like  a  comic  opera,"  said  Miss  Marshall. 

The  supreme  knight  advanced  and  handed  Wheaton 
the  scepter  and  there  was  renewed  applause  and  cheer 
ing. 

"Only  funnier,"  said  Earidan.  "Yell,  Saxton,  yell !" 
He  rose  to  his  feet  and  led  his  end  of  the  house  in  cheer 
ing.  "It  makes  me  think  of  old  times  at  football," 
he  declared,  sinking  back  into  his  chair  with  an  air  of 
exhaustion,  and  wiping  his  face. 


THE  KNIGHTS  OF  MIDAS  BALL        127 

The  king  had  seated  himself,  and  expectancy  again 
possessed  the  hall.  The  band  struck  up  another  air, 
and  a  line  of  girls  in  filmy,  trailing  gowns  was  filing  in. 

"There  are  the  foolish  virgins  who  didn't  fill  their 
lamps,"  said  Earidan;  "that's  why  they  have  brought 
bouquets." 

"But  they  ought  to  have  got  their  gowns  at  the  same 
place,"  said  Miss  Marshall,  who  was  abetting  Earidan 
in  his  comments.  Miss  Warren  and  Saxton,  on  the  other 
side  of  her,  were  taking  it  all  more  seriously. 

"It's  really  very  pretty  and  impressive,"  Miss  Warren 
declared,  "and  not  at  all  silly  as  I  feared  it  might  be." 

"Well,  that  is  very  pretty,"  replied  Saxton. 

The  queen,  following  her  ladies  in  waiting,  had  ap 
peared  at  the  door.  There  was  a  pause,  a  murmur,  and 
then  a  great  burst  of  applause  as  those  who  were  in  the 
secret  identified  the  queen,  and  those  who  were  not 
learned  it  as  Evelyn's  name  passed  from  lip  to  lip. 
Whatever  there  was  of  absurdity  in  the  scene  was  dis 
pelled  by  Evelyn's  loveliness  and  dignity.  Her  white 
gown  intensified  her  fairness,  and  her  long  court  train 
added  an  illusion  of  height.  She  carried  her  head  high, 
with  a  serene  air  that  was  habitual.  The  charm  that  set 
her  apart  from  other  girls  was  in  no  wise  lost  in  the 
mock  splendor  of  this  ceremony. 

"She's  as  lovely  as  a  bride,"  murmured  Belle  Marshall, 
so  low  that  only  Earidan  heard  her.  Something  caught 
in  his  throat  and  he  looked  steadily  down  upon  the 
approaching  queen  and  said  nothing.  The  supreme 
knight  descended  to  escort  the  queen  to  the  dais.  The 
king  came  down  to  meet  her  and  led  her  to  a  place  beside 
him,  where  they  turned  and  faced  the  applauding  crowd. 


128  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

The  grand  chamberlain  now  stepped  forward  and 
read  the  proclamation  of  the  Knights  of  Midas,  an 
nouncing  that  the  king  had  reached  their  city,,  and 
urging  upon '  all  subjects  the  duty  of  showing  strict 
obedience.  He  read  a-  formula  to  which  Evelyn  and 
Wheaton  mad©  responses.  A  page  stood  beside  the 
queen  holding  a  crown,  which  glittered  with  false 
brilliants  upon  a  richly  embroidered  pillow,  and  when 
the  king  knelt  before  her,  she  placed  it  upon  his  head. 
At  this  there  was  more  cheering  and  handclapping. 
Saxton  glanced  toward  Earidan  as  he  beat  his  own 
hands  together,  expecting  one  of  Earidan's  gibes  at  the 
chamberlain's  bombast;  but  there  was  a  fierce  light  in 
Earidan's  eyes  that  Saxton  had  never  seen  there  before. 
He  was  staring  before  him  at  Evelyn  Porter,  as  she  now 
sat  beside  Wheaton  on  the  tawdry  throne ;  his  face  was 
white  and  his  lips  were  set.  Saxton  was  struck  with 
sorrow  for  him. 

There  was  a  stir  throughout  the  hall.  The  king  and 
queen  were  descending;  the  floor  manager  was  already 
manifesting  his  authority. 

"Let's  stay  here  until  the  grand  march  is  over,"  said 
Earidan.  He  had  partly  regained  his  spirits,  and  was 
again  pointing  out  people  of  interest  on  the  floor  below. 

"Now  wasn't  it  magnificent  ?"  he  demanded. 

"Wasn't  Evelyn  lovely?"  exclaimed  the  girls  in  a 
breath. 

"We  didn't  need  this  circus  to  prove  it,  did  we?" 
asked  Earidan  cynically. 

"Aren't  there  any  more  exercises — is  it  all  over?" 
cried  Miss  Marshall. 

"Bless  us,  no !"  replied  Earidan. 


THE  KNIGHTS  OF  MIDAS  BALL        129 

The  evolutions  of  the  grand  march  were  now  in 
progress  and  they  stood  watching  it. 

"They  didn't  get  enough  rehearsals  for  this/'  said 
Earidan.  "Look  at  that  mix  up !"  One  of  the  knights 
had  tripped  and  stumbled  over  the  skirt  of  his  robe. 
"They  ought  to  behead  him  for  that." 

"Mr.  Earidan's  terribly  severe/'  said  Saxton.  The 
king  and  queen,  leading  the  march,  were  passing  under 
the  box. 

"The  king  really  looks  scared/'  remarked  Miss  War 
ren. 

"Yes ;  he's  rather  conscious  of  his  clothes/'  said  Eari 
dan.  "His  train  rattles  him."  Evelyn  glanced  up  at 
them  and  laughed  and  nodded. 

Before  the  march  broke  up  into  dancing  they  went 
down  from  the  gallery.  On  the  floor,  the  older  people 
were  resolving  themselves  into  lay  figures  against  the 
wall.  They  found  Mr.  Porter  leaning  against  one  of 
the  rude  supports  of  the  gallery,  wondering  whether  he 
might  now  escape  to  the  retirement,  of  the  cloak-room 
to  get  his  hat  and  cigar.  The  young  people  burst  upon 
him  with  congratulations. 

"You  must  be  dying  of  pride,"  exclaimed  Miss  Mar 
shall. 

"Evelyn  never  looked  better,"  declared  Miss  Warren. 
"It  was  splendid !" 

"We  are  proud  to  know  you,  sir,"  said  Earidan, 
shaking  hands. 

"I  surely  came  to  Clarkson  in  the  right  year,"  said 
Saxton. 

Porter  regarded  them  with  the  patronizing  smile 
which  he  kept  for  those  who  praised  Evelyn  to  his  face. 


130  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"The  only  thing  now/7  he  said,  "is  to  get  that  girl 
home  before  daylight." 

"Oh,  the  queen  gives  her  own  orders/'  said  Earidan. 
"You'll  never  be  boss  at  the  Hill  any  more  I"  He  was 
bringing  up  all  the  unattached  men  he  knew  to  present 
them  to  the  visitors.  He  never  forgot  any  one,  and  not 
merely  the  debutantes  of  other  years,  but  girls  that  wore 
voted  slow  in  the  brutal  court  of  social  opinion,  were 
always  sure  of  rescue  at  his  hands.  Evelyn  and  Wheaton 
were  bearing  down  upon  them;  Evelyn,  flushed  and 
happy,  and  Wheaton  in  a  glow  from  the  exercise  of  the 
march  and  a  dance  with  her.  There  was  a  fusillade  of 
interjections  as  many  crowded  about  with  praise  of  the 
leading  actors.  It  was  all  breathless  and  incoherent. 
The  crowd  was  uncomfortably  large,  and  the  hall  was 
hot.  Porter  found  General  Whipple  and  escaped  with 
him  to  the  smoking  room.  Young  men  were  every 
where  writing  their  names  on  elaborate  dance  cards. 

"Save  a  few  for  us,"  Earidan  pleaded  airily  as  the 
men  he  had  introduced  hovered  about  Evelyn's  guests. 
He  made  no  effort  to  speak  to  Evelyn,  who  was  besieged 
by  a  throng  that  wished  to  congratulate  her  or  to  dance 
with  her.  She  gave  Saxton  her  fingers  through  a  rift  in 
the  crowd  and  he  turned  again  to  find  himself  deserted. 
Earidan  was  dancing  with  Belle  Marshall  and  Annie 
Warren  nodded  to  him  over  the  shoulder  of  a  youth  who 
had  waltzed  her  away.  While  Saxton  waited  for  the 
quadrilles  to  which  his  dancing  limitations  restricted 
him,  he  made  a  circuit  of  the  room.  Mrs.  Whipple  was 
holding  forth  to  a  group  of  dowagers  but  turned  from 
them  to  him. 

"I'm  hardly  sure  of  you  without  Warry,  and  this  is 


THE  KNIGHTS  OF  MIDAS  BALL        131 

the  first  time  I've  seen  you  alone.     Of  course,  you  were 
looking  for  me !" 

"That's  what  I  came  for." 

"Please  say  something  more  like  that.  I  saw  you 
come  in,  young  man ;  they  are  very  nice  girls,  too." 

She  was  trying  to  remember  who  had  told  her  that 
Saxton  was  stupid. 

"How  did  you  like  it  ?     This  was  your  first,  I  think." 

"Beautiful!  charming!  An  enchanting  entertain 
ment  !" 

"Is  that  for  you  and  Warry,  too?  He  always  has  to 
approve  everything  here." 

"Oh,  I  can't  speak  for  him,"  John  answered;  "we 
don't  necessarily  always  agree." 

"I'll  have  to  find  out  later,  from  him.  You  and 
Warry  appear  to  be  fast  friends,  and  he  talks  a  great 
deal.  What  has  he  told  you  about  me  ?" 

"He  said  you  were  kind  to  strange  young  men;  but 
that  wasn't  information." 

"You'll  do,  I  think.     Here  comes  Warry  now." 

Earidan  came  along  looking  for  a  country  girl  whose 
brother  he  knew,  and  with  whom  he  had  engaged  the 
dance  which  was  now  in  progress. 

"I  think  she's  hiding  from  me,"  he  complained  to 
Mrs.  Whipple,  "but  the  gods  are  kind;  I  can  talk  to 
you.  The  general  is  a  generous  man."  He  regarded 
critically  a  great  bunch  of  red  roses  which  she  held 
in  her  lap.  "That's  why  the  florist  didn't  have  any 
for  me." 

"Oh,  these  are  Evelyn's,"  explained  Mrs.  Whipple. 
"She  asked  me  to  keep  them  for  her — the  king's  gift, 
you  know.  I  feel  highly  honored." 


132  THE  MAIX  CHANCE 

"By  the  king?  Impossible!  Fll  give  you  some 
thing  nice  to  let  me  drop  them  into  the  alley." 

"Is  it  as  bad  as  that?     Well,  good  luck  to  you!" 

He  stood  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  looking  mus 
ingly  out  over  the  heads  of  the  dancers.  Mrs.  Whipple 
eyed  him  attentively. 

"You  know  you  always  tell  me  all  of  them/'  she  per 
sisted;  but  he  was  following  a  fair  head  and  a  pair  of 
graceful  shoulders  and  ever  and  anon  a  laughing  face 
that  flashed  into  sight  and  then  out  of  range.  His 
rural  friend's  sister  loomed  before  him,  in  an  attitude 
of  dejection  against  the  wall,  and  he  hastened  to  her 
with  contrition,  and  made  paradise  fly  under  her  feet. 

Saxton  was  doing  his  best  with  the  square  dances,  and 
had  finished  a  quadrille  with  Evelyn,  who  had  there 
after  asked  him  to  sit  out  a  round  dance  with  her; 
still  Raridan  did  not  come  near  them.  He  was  busy 
with  Evelyn's  guests  or  immolating  himself  for  the 
benefit  of  the  country  wallflowers.  Supper  was  served 
at  midnight  in  an  annex  of  the  hall. 

"Here's  where  we  forget  to  be  polite,"  Raridan  an 
nounced.  "If  we  die  in  the  struggle  I  hope  you  fair 
young  charges  will  treasure  our  memories." 

The  king  and  queen  and  the  high  powers  of  the 
knights  enjoyed  the  distinction  of  sitting  at  a  table 
where  they  were  served  by  waiters,  while  the  multitude 
fought  for  their  food. 

"If  you  lose  our  seats  while  we're  gone,"  Raridan 
warned  Miss  Marshall  and  Miss  Warren,  "you  shall 
have  only  six  olives  apiece."  He  led  Saxton  in  a  descent 
upon  an  array  of  long  tables  at  which,  men  were  har 
pooning  sandwiches  and  dipping  salad.  The  successful 


THE  KNIGHTS  OF  MIDAS  BALL         133 

raiders  were  rewarded  by  the  waiters  with  cups  of  coffee 
to  add  to  their  perils  as  they  bore  their  plates  away. 
There  was  a  great  clatter  and  buzz  in  the  room.  On 
the  platform  where  the  distinguished  personages  of  the 
carnival  sat  there  was  now  much  laughing. 

"Margrave's  pretty  noisy  to-night,"  observed  Raridan, 
biting  into  his  sandwich,  and  sweeping  the  platform 
with  a  comprehensive  glance. 

"You  mustn't  forget  that  this  is  a  carnival,"  replied 
Saxton.  He  had  followed  his  friend's  eyes  and  knew 
that  it  was  not  the  horse-laugh  of  Margrave  that  troubled 
him,  but  the  vista  which  disclosed  both  Wheaton  and 
Evelyn  Porter. 

"Mr.  Raridan's  really  not  so  funny  as  Evelyn  said  he 
was,"  remarked  Belle  Marshall. 

"The  truth  is,"  Raridan  answered,  rallying,  "that  I'm 
getting  old.  Miss  Porter  remembers  only  my  light- 
hearted  youth." 

"Well,  let's  revive  our  youth  in  another  food  rush," 
suggested  Saxton.  They  repeated  their  tactics  of  a  few 
minutes  before,  returning  with  ice-cream,  which  the 
waiters  were  cutting  from  bricks  for  supplicants  who 
stood  before  them  in  Oliver  Twist's  favorite  attitude. 

"Mr.  Saxton's  a  terrible  tenderfoot,"  lamented  Rari 
dan,  when  they  returned  from  the  charge.  "He  was 
giving  your  ice-cream,  Miss  Warren,  to  an  old  gentle 
man,  who  stood  horror-struck  in  the  midst  of  the 
carnage." 

"You'd  think  we  rehearsed  our  talk,"  Saxton  ob 
jected.  "He  wants  me  to  tell  you  that  he  got  the  poor 
old  gentleman  not  only  food  for  all  his  relations,  but 
took  away  other  people's  chairs  for  him,  as  well." 


134  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"Lying  isn't  a  lost  art,  after  all,"  said  Earidan. 

As  they  returned  to  the  hall  they  met  a  crowd  of  the 
nobility  who  were  descending  from  their  high  seats. 

"So  sorry  to  have  deserted  you  all  evening,"  said 
Evelyn  to  her  girl  friends  as  they  came  together  in  a 
crush  at  the  door ;  "but  the  worst  is  over."  She  looked 
up  curiously  at  Earidan,  who  seemed  purposely  to  have 
turned  away  to  talk  to  Captain  Wheelock,  and  was  com 
menting  ironically  on  the  management  that  made  such 
a  mob  possible.  There  was  only  a  moment  for  any 
interchange,  but  she  was  sure  now  that  Raridan  was 
avoiding  her  and  it  touched  her  pride. 

"I  hope  you  won't  forget  our  dance,  Mr.  Saxton," 
she  said,  struggling  to  follow  a  young  man  who  had 
come  to  claim  her.  Earidan  turned  again,  but  hung 
protectingly  over  Miss  Marshall,  whom  the  noisy  Mar 
grave  seemed  bent  on  crushing.  Earidan  had  not  asked 
Evelyn  to  dance,  though  she  had  been  importuned  by 
every  other  man  she  knew,  and  by  a  great  many  others 
whom  she  did  not  know.  As  the  gay  music  of  a  waltz 
carried  her  down  the  hall  with  a  proud  youngster  who 
had  been  waiting  for  her,  the  lightness  of  her  heart  was 
gone  for  the  moment.  She  remembered  Earidan's 
curious  mood  on  the  night  before  her  friends  came,  and 
his  unfriendliness  to  the  idea  of  her  taking  part  in  the 
carnival.  She  was  piqued  that  he  had  studiously 
avoided  her  to-night.  The  others  must  have  noticed  it. 
Warry  needed  discipline;  he  had  been  spoilt  and  she 
meant  to  visit  punishment  upon  him.  She  did  not  care, 
she  told  herself,  whether  Warry  Earidan  liked  what  she 
did  or  not. 

But  something  of  the  glory  of  the  evening  had  de- 


THE  KNIGHTS  OF  MIDAS  BALL        135 

parted.  She  was  really  growing  tired,  and  several  of  the 
youths  who  came  for  dances  were  told  that  they  must  sit 
them  out,  and  she  welcomed  their  chatter,  throwing  in 
her  yes  and  no  occasionally  merely  to  impel  them  on. 
Wheaton  had  grown  a  little  afraid  of  her  after  the  glow 
of  his  royal  honors  had  begun  to  fade.  It  is  often  so 
with  players  in  amateur  theatricals,  who  think  they  are 
growing  wonderfully  well  acquainted  during  rehearsals ; 
but  after  the  performance  is  concluded,  they  are  sur 
prised  to  find  how  easily  they  slip  back  to  the  old  footing 
of  casual  acquaintance.  There  was  a  flutter  about  Eve 
lyn  at  the  last,  when  her  father  made  bold  to  ask  her 
when  she  would  be  ready  to  go, 

"The  girls  have  already  gone,"  he  said,  replying  to 
her  question.  AVhen  they  were  in  the  carriage  together 
and  were  rolling  homeward,  she  gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"Are  you  glad  it's  over  ?"  asked  her  father. 

"Yes,  I  believe  I  am." 

"Well,  -they  all  said  fine  things  about  you,  girl.  I 
guess  I've  got  to  be  proud  of  you."  This  was  his  way  of 
saying  that  he  was  both  proud  and  grateful. 

As  they  reached  the  entrance  to  the  Hill  they  passed 
another  carriage  just  leaving  the  grounds.  Saxton  put 
his  head  out  of  the  window  and  called  a  cheery  good 
night,  and  Evelyn  waved  a  hand  to  him. 

"It  was  Warry  and  Saxton,"  said  Mr.  Porter.  "I 
thought  they'd  stop  to  talk  it  over." 

Evelyn  had  thought  so  too,  but  she  did  not  say  so. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  MORNING  AT    ST.   PAUI/S 

Wheaton  ran  away  from  the  livelier  spirits  of  the 
Knights  of  Midas,  who  urged  him  to  join  in  a  cele 
bration  at  the  club  after  the  ball  broke  up.  He 
pleaded  the  necessity  of  early  rising  and  went  home 
and  to  bed,  where,  however,  he  slept  little,  but  lay 
dreaming  over  the  incidents  of  the  night,  particularly 
those  in  which  he  had  figured.  Many  people  had  con 
gratulated  him,  and  while  there  was  an  irony  in  much 
of  this,  as  if  the  whole  proceeding  were  a  joke,  he  had 
taken  it  all  in  the  spirit  in  which  it  had  been  offered. 
He  felt  a  trifle  anxious  as  to  his  reception  at  the  break 
fast  table  as  he  dressed,  but  his  mirror  gave  him 
confidence.  The  night  had  been  an  important  one  for 
him,  and  he  could  afford  to  bear  with  his  fellows,  who 
would,  he  knew,  spare  him  no  more  than  they  spared 
any  one  else  in  their  chaff. 

They  flaunted  at  him  the  morning  papers  with  por 
traits  of  the  king  and  queen  of  the  ball  bracketed  to 
gether  in  double  column.  He  took  the  papers  from 
them  as  he  replied  to  their  ironies,  and  casually  in 
spected  them  while  the  Chinaman  brought  in  his  break 
fast. 

"Didn't  expect  to  see  you  this  morning,"  said  Cald- 
well,  the  Transcontinental  agent,  stirring  his  coffee  and 

136 


A  MOBBING  AT  ST.  PAUL'S  137 

winking  at  Brown,  the  smelter  manager.  "You  society 
men  are  usually  shy  at  breakfast." 

Wheaton  put  down  his  paper  carelessly,  and  spread 
his  napkin. 

"Oh,  a  king  has  to  eat/'  said  Brown. 

"Well/'  said  Wheaton,  with  an  air  of  relief,  "it's 
worth  something  to  be  alive  the  morning  after." 

But  they  had  no  sympathy  for  him. 

"Listen  to  him/'  said  Caldwell  derisively,  "just  as  if 
he  didn't  wish  he  could  do  it  all  over  again  to-night." 

"Not  for  a  million  dollars,"  declared  Wheaton,  shak 
ing  his  head  dolefully. 

"Yes,"  said  Captain  Wheelock,  "1  suppose  that  show 
last  night  bored  you  nearly  to  death." 

"I'm  always  glad  to  see  these  fellows  sacrifice  them 
selves  for  the  public  good,"  said  Brown.  "Wheaton's 
a  martyr  now,  with  a  nice  pink  halo'." 

"Well,  it  doesn't  go  here,"  said  the  army  officer 
severely.  "We've  got  to  take  him  down  a  peg  if  he 
gets  too  gay." 

"Why,  we've  already  got  one  sassiety  man  in.  the 
house,"  said  Caldwell,  "and  that's  hard  enough  to 
bear."  He  referred  to  Earidan,  who  was  breakfasting 
in  his  room. 

They  were  addressing  one  another,  rather  than 
Wheaton,  whose  presence  they  affected  to  ignore. 

"I  suppose  there'll  be  no  holding  him  now,"  said 
Caldwell.  "It's  like  the  taste  for  strong  drink,  this 
society  business.  They  never  get  over  it.  It's  ruined 
Earidan;  he'd  be  a  good  fellow  if  it  wasn't  for  that." 

"Humph!  you  fellows  are  envious,"  said  Wheaton, 
with  an  effort  at  swagger. 


138  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"Oh,  I  don't  know !"  said  Brown.,  with  rising  inflec 
tion.  "I  suppose  any  of  us  could  do  it  if  we'd  put  up 
the  money/' 

"Well/'  said  Wheaton,  "if  they  let  you  off  as  cheaply 
as  they  did  me,,  you  may  call  it  a  bargain/' 

"Oh,  he  jewed  'em  down/'  persisted  Caldwell,  ex 
plaining  to  the  others,  "and  he  has  the  cheek  to  boast 
of  it.  I'll  see  that  Margrave  hears  that." 

"Yes,  you  do  that,"  Wheaton  retorted.  "Everybody 
knows  that  Margrave's  an  easy  mark."  This  counted 
as  a  palpable  hit  with  Brown  and  Wheelock.  Margrave 
was  notorious  for  his  hard  bargains.  Wheaton  gathered 
up  his  papers  and  went  out. 

"He  takes  it  pretty  well,"  said  Caldwell  as  they  heard 
the  door  close  after  Wheaton.  "He  ought  to  make  a 
pretty  good  fellow  in  time  if  he  doesn't  get  stuck  on 
himself." 

"Well,  I  guess  Billy  Porter'll  take  him  down  if  he 
gets  too  gay,"  exclaimed  Brown. 

"Porter  may  leave  it  to  his  daughter  to  do  that/' 
said  Caldwell,  shaking  out  the  match  with  which  he 
had  lighted  his  cigar,  and  dropping  it  into  his  coffee 
cup. 

"It'll  never  come  to  that,"  returned  Brown. 

"You  never  can  tell.  People  were  looking  wise  about 
it  last  night,"  said  Captain  Wheelock,  who  was  a  pur 
veyor  of  gossip. 

"Don't  trouble  yourself,"  volunteered  Caldwell,  who 
read  the  society  items  thoroughly  every  morning  and 
created  a  social  fabric  out  of  them.  "I  guess  Warry 
will  have  something  to  say  to  that." 

At  the  bank  Wheaton  found  that  the  men  who  came 


A  MORNING  AT  ST.  PAUL'S  139 

in  to  transact  business  had  a  knowing  nod  for  him, 
that  implied  a  common  knowledge  of  matters  which 
it  was  not  necessary  to  discuss.  A  good  many  who  came 
to  his  desk  asked  him  if  he  was  tired.  They  referred 
to  the  carnival  ball  as  a  "push"  and  said  it  was  "great" 
with  all  the  emphasis  that  slang  has  imparted  to  these 
words. 

Porter  came  down  early  and  enveloped  himself  in  a 
cloud  of  smoke.  This  in  the  bank  was  the  outward 
and  visible  sign  of  a  "grouch."  When  he  pressed  the 
button  to  call  one  of  the  messengers,  he  pushed  it  long 
and  hard,  so  that  the  boys  remarked  to  one  another 
that  the  boss  had  been  out  late  last  night  and  wasn't 
feeling  good. 

Porter  did  not  mention  the  ball  to  Whcaton  in  any 
way,  except  when  he  threw  over  to  him  a  memorandum 
of  the  bank's  subscription  to  the  fund,  remarking: 
"Send  them  a  check.  That's  all  of  that  for  one  year." 

Whcaton  made  no  reply,  but  did  as  Porter  bade  him. 
It  was  his  business  to  accommodate  himself  to  the 
president's  moods,  and  he  was  very  successful  in  doing 
so.  A  few  of  the  bank's  customers  made  use  of  him  as 
a  kind  of  human  barometer,  telephoning  sometimes 
to  ask  how  the  old  man  was  feeling,  and  whether  it 
was  a  good  time  to  approach  him.  He  attributed  the 
president's  reticence  this  morning  to  late  hours,  and 
was  very  careful  to  answer  promptly  when  Porter  spoke 
to  him.  He  knew  that  there  would  be  no  recognition 
by  Porter  of  the  fact  that  he  had  participated  in  a 
public  function  the  night  before;  he  would  have  to 
gather  the  glory  of  it  elsewhere.  He  thought  of  Evelyn 
in  moments  when  his  work  was  not  pressing,  and  won- 


140  THE  MAIN  CHAXCE 

dered  whether  he  could  safely  ask  her  father  how  she 
stood  the  night's  gaiety.  It  occurred  to  him  to  pay  his 
compliments  by  telephone;  Earidan  was  always  tele 
phoning  to  girls ;  but  he  could  not  quite  put  himself  in 
Raridan's  place.  Warry  presumed  a  good  deal,  and  was 
younger;  he  did  many  things  which  Wheaton  consid 
ered  undignified,  though  he  envied  the  younger  man's 
ease  in  carrying  them  off. 

One  of  Porter's  callers  asked  how  Miss  Porter  had 
"stood  the  racket/'  as  he  phrased  it. 

"Don't  ask  me/'  growled  Porter.  "Didn't  show  up 
for  breakfast." 

William  Porter  did  not  often  eat  salad  at  midnight, 
but  when  he  did  it  punished  him. 

As  Wheaton  was  opening  the  afternoon  mail  he  was 
called  to  the  telephone-box  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Jordan,  a 
lady  whom  he  had  met  at  the  ball.  She  was  inviting 
a  few  friends  for  dinner  the  next  evening  to  meet  some 
guests  who  were  with  her  for  the  carnival.  She  begged 
that  Mr.  Wheaton  would  pardon  the  informality  of  the 
invitation  and  come.  He  answered  that  he  should  be 
very  glad  to  come;  but  when  he  got  back  to  his  desk 
he  realized  that  he  had  probably  made  a  mistake;  the 
Jordans  were  socially  anomalous,  and  there  was  noth 
ing  to  be  gained  by  cultivating  them.  However,  he 
consoled  himself  with  the  recollection  of  one  of  Rari- 
dan's  social  dicta — that  a  dinner  invitation  should 
never  be  declined  unless  smallpox  existed  in  the  house 
of  the  hostess.  He  swayed  between  the  disposition  to 
consider  the  Jordans  patronizingly  and  an  honest  feel 
ing  of  gratitude  for  their  invitation,  as  he  bent  over 
his  desk  signing  drafts. 


A  MORNING  AT  ST.  PAUL'S  141 

He  found  the  Jordans  very  cordial.  He  was  their 
star,  and  they  made  much  of  him ;  he  was  pleased  that 
they  showed  him  a  real  deference;  Avhen  he  spoke  at 
the  table,  the  others  paused  to  listen.  He  knew  the 
other  young  men  slightly ;  one  was  a  clerk  in  a  railway 
office,  and  the  other  was  the  assistant  manager  of  the 
city's  largest  dry  goods  house.  The  guests  were  young 
women  from  Mrs.  Jordan's  old  home,  in  Piqua,  Ohio. 
(Mrs.  Jordan  always  gave  the  name  of  the  state.) 
Wheaton  realized  that  these  young  women  were  much 
easier  to  get  on  with  than  Miss  Porter  and  other  young 
women  he  had  known  latterly;  they  were  more  point 
edly  interested  in  pleasing  him. 

After  a  few  days  the  carnival  seemed  to  be  forgotten ; 
Wheaton's  fellows  at  The  Bachelors'  stopped  joking 
him  about  it.  Earidan  had  never  referred  to  it  at  all. 
On  Sunday  the  newspapers  printed  a  resume  of  the 
social  features  of  the  carnival,  and  Wheaton  read  the 
familiar  story,  and  all  the  other  social  news  in  the 
paper,  in  bed.  He  noticed  with  a  twinge  an  item  stat 
ing  that  Mrs.  J.  Elihu  Jordan  had  entertained  at  dinner 
on  Thursday  evening  for  the  Misses  Sweetser,  of  Piqua, 
but  was  relieved  to  find  that  neither  paper  printed 
the  names  of  the  guests.  The  bachelors  were  very  lazy 
on  Sunday  morning,  excepting  Raridan,  who  attended 
what  he  called  "early  church."  This  practice  his  fellow- 
lodgers  accepted  in  silence  as  one  of  his  vagaries. 
That  a  man  should  go  to  church  at  seven  o'clock  and 
then  again  at  eleven,  signified  mere  eccentricity  to 
Raridan's  fellow-boarders,  who  were  not  instructed  in 
catholic  practices,  but  divided  their  own  Sunday  morn- 


U2  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

ings  much  more  rationally  between  the  barber  shop,  the 
post-office  and  their  places  of  business. 

It  was  a  bright  morning;  the  week  just  ended  had 
been,  in  a  sense,  epochal,  and  Wheaton  resolved  to  go 
to  church.  It  had  been  his  habit  to  attend  services 
occasionally,  on  Sunday  evenings,  at  the  People's 
Church,  whose  minister  frequently  found  occasion  to 
preach  on  topics  of  the  day  or  on  literary  subjects.  Doc 
tor  Morningstar  was  the  most  popular  preacher  in 
Clarkson;  the  People's  Church  was  filled  at  all  services; 
on  Sunday  evenings  it  was  crowded.  Doctor  Morning- 
star's  series  of  lectures  on  the  Italian  Eenaissance,  illus 
trated  by  the  stereopticon,  and  his  even  more  popular 
course  of  lectures  on  the  Victorian  novelists,  had  ap 
pealed  to  Wheaton  and  to  many;  but  the  People's 
Church  was  not  fashionable;  he  decided  to  go  this 
morning  to  St.  Paul's,  the  Episcopal  Cathedral.  It  was 
the  oldest  church  in  town,  and  many  of  the  first  families 
attended  there.  All  fashionable  weddings  in  Clarkson 
were  held  in  the  cathedral,  not  because  it  was  popularly 
supposed  to  confer  a  spiritual  benefit  upon  those  who 
were  blessed  from  its  altar,  but  for  the  more  excellent 
reason  that  the  main  aisle  of  this  Gothic  edifice  gave 
ample  space  for  the  free  sweep  of  bridal  trains,  and  the 
chancel  lent  itself  charmingly  to  the  decorative  pur 
poses  of  the  florist. 

Wheaton  found  Randan  breakfasting  alone,  the  oth 
ers  of  the  mess  not  having  appeared.  Raridan's  good 
morning  was  not  very  cordial;  he  had  worn  a  gloomy 
air  for  several  days.  Whenever  Raridan  seemed  out  of 
sorts,  Caldwell  always  declared  solemnly  that  Warry  had 
been  writing  poetry. 


A  MORNING  AT  ST.  PAUL'S  1-13 

"Going  to  church  as  usual  ?"  Whcaton  asked  amiably. 

Every  Sunday  morning  some  one  asked  Raridan  this 
question;  he  supposed  Wheaton  was  attempting  to  be 
facetious. 

"Yes/'  he  answered  patiently;  and  added,  as  usual, 
"better  go  along." 

"Don't  care  if  I  do,"  Wheaton  replied,  carelessly. 

Raridan  eyed  him  in  surprise. 

"Oh!   glad  to  have  you." 

They  walked  toward  the  cathedral  together,  Wheaton 
satisfied  that  his  own  hat  was  as  shiny  and  his  frock 
co'at  as  proper  as  Raridan's;  their  gloves  were  almost 
of  the  same  shade.  There  was  a  stir  in  the  vestibule  of 
the  cathedral,  which  many  people  in  their  Sunday 
finery  were  entering.  Wheaton  had  never  been  in  an 
Episcopal  church  before;  it  all  seemed  very  strange  to 
him — the  rambling  music  of  the  voluntary,  the  unfa 
miliar  scenes  depicted  on  the  stained  glass  windows, 
the  soft  light  through  which  he  saw  well-dressed  people 
coming  to  their  places,  and  the  scent  of  flowers  and  the 
faint  breath  of  orris  from  the  skirts  of  women.  The 
boy  choir  came  in  singing  a  stirring  processional  that 
was  both  challenge  and  inspiration.  It  was  like  wit 
nessing  a  little  drama :  the  procession,  the  singing,  the 
flutter  of  surplices  as  the  choir  found  their  stalls  in  the 
dim  chancel.  Raridan  bowed  when  the  processional 
cross  passed  him,  Wheaton  observed  that  no  one  else 
did  so. 

A  young  clergyman  began  reading  the  service,  and 
Wheaton  followed  it  in  the  prayer  book  which  Rari 
dan  handed  him  with  the  places  marked.  He  felt 
ashamed  that  the  people  about  him  should  see  that  the 


144  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

places  had  to  be  found  for  him;  he  wished  to  have  the 
appearance  of  being  very  much  at  home.  He  suddenly 
caught  sight  of  Evelyn  Porter's  profile  far  across  the 
church,  and  presently  her  father  and  their  guests  were 
disclosed.  He  soon  discovered  others  that  he  knew, 
with  surprise  that  so  many  men  of  unimpeachable  po 
sition  in  town  were  there.  Here,  then,  was  a  stage  of 
I  development  that  he  had  not  reckoned  with ;  surely  it 
was  a  very  respectable  thing  to  go  to  church, — to  this 
church,  at  least, — on  Sunday  mornings.  The  bewil 
derment  of  reading  and  chanting  continued,  and  he 
wondered  whether  there  would  be  a  sermon;  at  Doctor 
Morningstar's  the  sermon  was  the  main  thing.  He 
remembered  Captain  Wheelock's  joke  with  Earidan, 
that  "the  Episcopal  Church  had  neither  politics  nor  re 
ligion;"  but  it  was  at  least  very  aristocratic. 

He  stood  and  seated  himself  many  times,  bowing  his 
head  on  the  seat  in  front  of  him  when  the  others  knelt, 
and  now  the  great  figure  of  Bishop  Delafield  came  from 
somewhere  in  the  depths  of  the  chancel  and  rose  in  the 
pulpit.  The  presence  of  the  bishop  reminded  him  un 
pleasantly  of  the  Porters7  sun-porch  and  of  the  disgrace 
ful  encounter  there.  The  congregation  resettled  them 
selves  in  their  places  with  a  rustle  of  skirts  and  a  rat 
tling  of  books  into  the  racks.  It  was  not  often  that 
the  bishop  appeared  in  his  cathedral;  he  was  rarely  in 
his  see  city  on  Sundays;  but  whenever  he  preached 
men  listened  to  him.  Wheaton  was  relieved  to  find  that 
there  was  to  be  a  cessation  of  the  standing  up  and  sit 
ting  down  which  seemed  so  complicated. 

He  now   found   that   he   could  see  the   Porter   pew 
easily   by    turning   his   head    slightly.      The    roses    in 


A  MOKNING  AT  ST.  PAUL'S  1-15 

Evelyn's  hat  were  very  pretty;  lie  wondered  whether 
she  came  every  Sunday;  he  concluded  that  she  did; 
and  he  decided  that  he  should  attend  hereafter.  The 
bishop  had  carried  no  manuscript  into  the  pulpit  with 
him,  and  he  gave  his  text  from  memory,  resting  one 
arm  on  the  pulpit  rail.  He  was  an  august  figure  in 
his  robes,  and  he  seemed  to  Wheaton,  as  he  looked  up 
at  him,  to  pervade  and  possess  the  place.  Wheaton  had 
a  vague  idea  of  the  episcopal  office;  bishops  were,  he 
imagined,  persons  of  considerable  social  distinction;  in 
his  notion  of  them  they  ranked  with  the  higher  civil  law 
givers,  and  were  comparable  to  military  commandants. 
In  a  line  with  the  Porters  he  could  see  General  Whip- 
pie's  white  head — all  the  conditions  of  exalted  respecta 
bility  were  present. 

And  he  removed  from  thence,  and  digged  another 
well;  and  for  that  they  strove  not:  and  he  called  the 
name  of  it  Rehoboth;  and  he  said,  'For  now  the  Lord 
hath  made  room  for  us,  and  we  shall  be  fruitful  in  the 
land/ 

For  now  the  Lord  hath  made  room  for  us.  The 
preacher  sketched  lightly  the  primal  scene  to  which  his 
text  related.  He  knew  the  color  and  light  of  language 
and  made  it  seem  to  his  hearers  that  the  Asian  plain 
lay  almost  at  the  doors  of  the  cathedral.  He  recon 
structed  the  simple  social  life  of  the  early  times,  and 
followed  westward  the  campfires  of  the  shepherd 
kings.  He  built  up  the  modern  social  and  political 
structure,  with  the  home  as  its  foundation,  before  the 
eyes  of  the  congregation.  A  broad  democracy  and  hu 
manity  dominated  the  discourse  as  it  unfolded  itself. 
The  bishop  hardly  lifted  his  voice;  he  did  not  rant  nor 


146  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

make  gestures,  but  he  spoke  as  one  having  authority. 
Wheaton  turned  uneasily  and  looked  furtively  about. 
He  had  not  expected  anything  so  earnest  as  this ;  there 
was  a  tenseness  in  the  air  that  oppressed  him.  What 
he  was  hearing  from  that  quiet  old  man  in  the  pulpit 
was  without  the  gloss  of  fashion;  it  was  inconsonant 
with  the  spirit  of  the  place  as  he  had  conceived  it.  Doc 
tor  Morningstar's  discourses  on  Browning's  poetry  had 
been  far  more  entertaining. 

For  now  the  Lord  JidtJi  made  room  for  us.  The 
preacher's  voice  was  even  quieter  as  he  repeated  these 
words.  "We  are  very  near  the  heart  of  the  world,  here 
at  the  edge  of  the  great  plain.  Who  of  us  but  feels 
the  freedom,  the  ampler  ether,  the  diviner  air  of  these 
new  lands?  We  hear  over  and  over  that  in  the  West, 
men  may  begin  again;  that  here  we  may  put  off  our 
old  garments  and  re-clothe  ourselves.  We  must  not  too 
radically  adopt  this  idea.  I  am  not  so  sanguine  that 
it  is  an  easy  matter  to  be  transformed  and  remade;  I 
am  not  persuaded  that  geography  enters  into  heart  or 
mind  or  soul  so  that  by  crossing  the  older  borders  into 
a  new  land  we  obliterate  old  ties.  Here  we  may  dig 
new  wells,  but  we  shall  thirst  often,  like  David,  for  a 
drink  of  water  from  the  well  by  the  gate  of  Bethlehem." 

Wheaton's  mind  wandered.  It  was  a  pleasure  to 
look  about  over  these  well-groomed  people;  this  was 
what  success  meant — access  to  such  conditions  as  these. 
The  fragrance  of  the  violets  worn  by  a  girl  in  the  next 
pew  stole  over  him;  it  was  a  far  cry  to  his  father's 
stifling  harness  shop  in  the  dull  little  Ohio  town.  His 
hand  crept  to  the  pin  which  held  his  tie  in  place;  he 
could  not  give  just  the  touch  to  an  Ascot  that  Warry 


A  MORNING  AT  ST.  PAUL'S  147 

Earidan  could,  but  then  Warry  had  practised  longer. 
The  old  bishop's  voice  boomed  steadily  over  the  congre 
gation.  It  caught  and  held  Wheaton's  attention  once 
more. 

"It  is  here  that  God  hath  made  room  for  us;  but  it 
is  not  that  we  may  begin  life  anew.  There  is  no  such 
thing  as  beginning  life  anew;  we  may  begin  again,  but 
we  may  not  obliterate  nor  ignore  the  past.  Rather  we 
should  turn  to  it  more  and  more  for  those  teachings  of 
experience  which  build  character.  Here  on  the  West 
ern  plains  the  light  and  heat  of  cloudless  skies  beat 
freely  upon  us;  the  soul,  too,  must  yield  itself  to 
the  sun.  The  spirit  of  man  was  not  made  for  the  pit  or 
the  garret,  but  for  the  open." 

Wheaton  stirred  restlessly,  so  that  Raridan  turned 
his  head  and  looked  at  him.  He  had  been  leaning  for 
ward,  listening  intently,  and  had  suddenly  come  to 
himself.  He  crossed  his  arms  and  settled  back  in  his 
seat.  A  man  in  front  of  him  yawned,  and  he  was  grate 
ful  to  him.  But  again  his  ear  caught  an  insistent 
phrase. 

"Life  would  be  a  simple  matter  if  memory  did  not 
carry  our  yesterdays  into  our  to-days,  and  if  it  were  as 
easy  as  Cain  thought  it  was  to  cast  aside  the  past.  A 
man  must  deal  with  evil  openly  and  bravely.  He  must 
turn  upon  himself  with  reproof  the  moment  he  finds 
that  he  has  been  trampling  conscience  under  his  feet. 
An  artisan  may  slight  work  in  a  dark  corner  of  a  house, 
thinking  that  it  is  hidden  forever;  but  I  say  to  you 
that  we  are  all  builders  in  the  house  of  life,  and  that 
there  are  no  dark  corners  where  we  may  safely  practise 
deceit  or  slight  the  task  God  assigns  us.  I  would 


US  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

leave  a  word  of  courage  and  hope  with  you.  Christian 
ity  is  a  militant  religion;  it  strengthens  those  who 
stand  forth  bravely  on  the  battle  line ,  it  comforts  and 
helps  the  weak-hearted,  and  it  lifts  up  those  who  fall. 
I  pray  that  God  may  freshen  and  renew  courage  in  us — 
courage  not  as  against  the  world,  but  courage  to  deal 
honestly  and  fairly  and  openly  with  ourselves." 

The  organ  was  throbbing  again;  the  massive  figure 
had  gone  from  the  pulpit;  the  people  were  stirring  in 
their  seats.  The  young  minister  who  had  read  the 
service  repeated  the  offertory  sentences,  and  the  voice 
of  a  boy  soprano  stole  tremulously  over  the  congrega 
tion.  Earidan  had  left  the  pew  and  was  passing  the 
plate.  The  tinkle  of  coin  reassured  Wheaton;  the  re 
turn  to  mundane  things  brought  him  relief  and  restored 
his  confidence.  His  spirit  grew  tranquil  as  he  looked 
about  him.  The  pleasant  and  graceful  things  of  life 
were  visible  again. 

The  voice  of  the  bishop  rose  finally  in  benediction. 
The  choir  marched  out  to  a  hymn  of  victory;  people 
were  talking  as  they  moved  through  the  aisles  to  the 
doors.  The  organ  pealed  gaily  now;  there  was  light 
and  cheer  in  the  world  after  all.  At  the  door  Wheaton 
became  separated  from  Earidan,  and  as  he  stood  wait 
ing  at  the  steps  Evelyn  and  her  friends  detached 
themselves  from  the  throng  on  the  sidewalk  and  got 
into  their  carriage.  Mr.  Porter,  snugly  buttoned  in 
his  frock  coat,  and  with  his  silk  hat  tipped  back  from 
his  forehead,  stood  in  the  doorway  talking  to  General 
Whipple,  who  was,  as  usual  in  crowds,  lost  from  the 
more  agile  comrade  of  his  marches  many.  Wheaton 
hastened  down  to  the  Porter  carriage,  where  the  smiles 


A  MORNING  AT  ST.  PAUL'S  149 

and  good  mornings  of  the  occupants  gave  him  further 
benediction.  Evelyn  and  Miss  Warren  were  nearest 
him ;  as  he  stood  talking  to  them,  Belle  Marshall  espied 
Earidan  across  his  shoulders. 

"Oh,  there's  Mr.  Raridan !"  she  cried,  but  when 
Wheaton  stood  aside,  Raridan  had  already  disappeared 
around  the  carriage  and  had  come  into  view  at  the 
opposite  window  with  a  general  salutation,  which  in 
cluded  them  all,  but  Miss  Marshall  more  particularly. 

'"I'm  sure  that  sermon  will  do  you  good,  Mr.  Rari 
dan,"  the  Virginia  girl  drawled.  She  was  one  of  those 
young  women  who  flatter  men  by  assuming  that  they 
are  very  depraved.  Even  impeccable  youngsters  are 
susceptible  to  this  harmless  form  of  cajolery. 

"Oh,  I'm  always  good.  Miss  Porter  can  tell  you 
that." 

"Don't  take  my  name  in  vain,"  said  Evelyn,  covertly 
looking  at  him,  but  turning  again  to  Wheaton. 

"You  see  your  witness  has  failed  you.  Going  to 
church  isn't  all  of  being  good." 

Wheaton  and  Evelyn  were  holding  a  lively  conversa 
tion.  Evelyn's  animation  was  for  his  benefit,  Raridan 
knew,  and  it  enraged  him.  He  had  been  ready  for 
peace,  but  Evelyn  had  snubbed  him.  He  was,  more 
over,  standing  in  the  mud  in  his  patent  leather  shoes 
while  another  man  chatted  with  her  in  greater  dignity 
from  the  curb.  His  chaff  with  Miss  Marshall  lacked 
its  usual  teasing  quality;  he  was  glad  when  Mr.  Porter 
came  and  took  his  place  in  the  carriage. 

Raridan  had  little  to  say  as  he  and  Wheaton  walked 
homeward  together,  though  Wheaton  felt  in  duty  bound 
to  express  his  pleasure  in  the  music  and,  a  little  less 


150  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

heartily,  in  the  sermon.  Raridan's  mind  was  on  some 
thing  else,  and  Wheaton  turned  inward  to  his  own 
thoughts.  He  was  complacent  in  his  own  virtue;  he 
had  made  the  most  of  the  talents  God  had  given  him, 
and  in  his  Sunday  evening  lectures  Doctor  Morningstar 
had  laid  great  stress  on  this;  it  was  the  doctor's  idea 
of  the  preaching  office  to  make  life  appear  easy,  and  he 
filled  his  church  twice  every  Sunday  with  people  who 
were  glad  to  see  it  that  way.  As  Wheaton  walked  be 
side  Karidan  he  thought  of  the  venerable  figure  that 
had  leaned  out  over  the  congregation  of  St.  Paul's  that 
morning,  and  appealed  in  his  own  mind  from  Bishop 
Delafield  to  Doctor  Morningstar,  and  felt  that  the  bishop 
was  overruled.  As  he  understood  Doctor  Morningstar's 
preaching  it  dealt  chiefly  with  what  the  doctor  called 
ideality,  and  this,  as  near  as  Wheaton  could  make  out, 
was  derived  from  Euskin,  Emerson  and  Carlyie,  who 
were  the  doctor's  favorite  authors.  The  impression 
which  remained  with  him  of  the  morning  at  St.  Paul's 
was  not  of  the  rugged  old  bishop's  sermon,  which  he 
had  already  dismissed,  but  of  the  novel  exercises  in  the 
chancel,  the  faint  breath  of  perfumes  that  were  to  him 
the  true  odor  of  sanctity,  and  what  he  would  have 
called,  if  he  had  defined  it,  the  high-toned  atmosphere 
of  the  place.  The  bishop  was  only  an  occasional  vis 
itor  in  the  cathedral;  he  was  old-fashioned  and  a 
crank;  but  no  doubt  the  regular  minister  of  the  con 
gregation  preached  a  cheerfuller  idea  of  life  than  his 
bishop,  and  more  of  that  amiable  conduct  which  is, 
as  Doctor  Morningstar  was  forever  quoting  from  a  man 
named  Arnold,  three-fourths  of  life. 


A  MOBNING  AT  ST.  PAUL'S  151 

When  Wheaton  reached  his  room  he  found  an  en 
velope  lying  on  his  table,  much  soiled,  and  addressed, 
in  an  unformed  hand,  to  himself.  It  contained  a  dirty 
scrap  of  paper  bearing  these  words : 

"Jim :  ril  be  at  the  Occidental  Hotel  tonight  at  8 
o'clock.  Don't  fail  to  come.  BILLY/' 


CHAPTER  XIII 

BAKGAIN   AND   SALE 

That  is  a  disastrous  moment  in  the  history  of 
any  man  in  which  he  concludes  that  the  problems  of 
life  are  easy  of  solution.  Life  has  been  likened  by 
teachers  of  ethics  to  a  great  school,  but  the  comparison 
is  not  wholly  apt.  As  an  educational  system,  life  is 
decidedly  not  up  to  date;  the  curriculum  lacks  flexi 
bility,  and  the  list  of  easy  electives  and  "snap"  courses 
is  discouragingly  brief.  A  reputable  poet  holds  that 
"life  is  a  game. the  soul  can  play";  but  the  game,  it 
should  be  remembered,  is  not  always  so  easy  as  it  looks. 
It  could  hardly  be  said  that  James  Wheaton  made  the 
most  of  all  his  opportunities,  or  that  he  had  mastered 
circumstances,  although  his  biography  as  printed  in  the 
daily  press  on  the  occasion  of  his  succession  to  the  mock 
throne  of  the  Knights  of  Midas  gave  this  impression 
with  a  fine  color  of  truth,  and  with  no  purpose  to 
deceive. 

The  West  makes  much  of  its  self-made  men,  and 
points  to  them  with  pride,  whenever  the  self-making 
includes  material  gain.  The  god  Success  is  en 
throned  on  a  new  Olympus,  and  all  are  slaves  to  him; 
and  when  public  teachers  thunder  at  him,  his  humblest 
subjects  smile  at  one  another,  and  say  that  it  is,  no 

152 


BAKGA1N  AND  .SALE  153 

doubt,,  well  enough  to  be  reminded  of  such  things  occa 
sionally,  but  that,  after  all,  nothing  succeeds  like 
success.  Life  is  a  series  of  hazards,  and  we  are  all 
looking  for  the  main  chance. 

James  Wheaton's  code  of  morals  was  very  simple. 
Honesty  he  knew  to  be  the  best  policy;  he  had  learned 
this  in  his  harsh  youth,  but  he  had  no  instinct  for  the 
subtler  distinctions  in  matters  of  conduct.  Behind 
glass  and  wire  barricades  in  the  bank  where  he  had  spent 
so  many  of  his  thirty-five  years,  he  had  known  little  real 
contact  with  men.  He  knew  the  pains  and  penalties 
of  overdrafts;  and  life  resolved  itself  into  a  formal 
kind  of  accountancy  where  the  chief  thing  was  to  main 
tain  credit  balances.  His  transfer  from  a  clerical  to  an 
official  position  had  widened  his  horizon  without  giving 
him  the  charts  with  which  to  sail  new  seas.  Life  had 
never  resolved  itself  into  capital  letters  in  his  medita 
tions  ;  he  never  indulged  in  serious  speculation  about  it. 
It  was  hardly  even  a  game  for  the  soul  to  play  with 
him ;  if  he  had  been  capable  of  analyzing  his  own  feel 
ings  about  it  he  would  have  likened  it  to  a  mechanical 
novelty,  whose  printed  instructions  are  confusingly  ob 
scure,  but  with  a  little  fumbling  you  find  the  spring, 
and  presto !  the  wheels  turn  and  all  is  very  simple. 

He  tore  up  the  note  with  irritation  and  threw  it  into 
the  waste  paper  basket.  He  called  the  Chinese  servant, 
who  explained  that  a  boy  had  left  it  in  the  course  of 
the  morning  and  had  said  nothing  about  an  answer. 

The  Bachelors'  did  not  usually  muster  a  full  table  at 
Sunday  dinner.  All  Clarkson  dined  at  noon  on  Sunday, 
and  most  of  the  bachelors  were  fortunate  enough  to  be 
asked  out.  Wheaton  was  not  frequently  a  diner  out 


154  THE.  MAIN  CHANCE 

by  reason  of  his  more  slender  acquaintance;  and  to-day 
all  were  present,  including  Raridan,  the  most  fickle  of  all 
in  his  attendance.  It  had  pleased  Wheaton  to  find  that 
the  others  had  been  setting  him  apart  more  and  more 
with  Raridan  for  the  daily  discipline  they  dealt  one  an 
other.  They  liked  to  poke  fun  at  Karidan  on  the 
score  of  what  they  called  his  mad  social  whirl;  there 
was  no  resentment  about  it;  they  were  themselves  of 
sterner  stuff  and  had  no  patience  with  Raridan's 
frivolities;  and  they  were  within  the  fact  when  they 
assumed  that,  if  they  wished,  they  could  go  anywhere 
that  he  did.  It  touched  Wheaton7  s  vanity  to  find  him 
self  a  joint,  target  with  Raridan  for  the  arrows  which 
the  other  bachelors  fired  at  folly. 

The  table  cheer  opened  to-day  with  a  debate  between 
Caldwell  and  Captain  Wheelock  as  to  the  annual  cost 
to  Raridan  of  the  carnation  which  he  habitually  wore 
in  his  coat.  This,  in  the  usual  manner  of  their  froth, 
was  treated  indirectly;  the  aim  was  to  continue  the 
cross-firing  until  the  victim  was  goaded  into  a  scornful 
rejoinder.  Raridan  usually  evened  matters  before  he 
finished  with  them;  but  he  affected  not  to  be  listening 
to  them  now. 

"I  was  reading  an  article  in  the  Contemporary  Re 
view  the  other  day  that  set  me  to  thinking,"  he  said 
casually  to  Wheaton.  "It  was  an  effort  to  answer  the 
old  question,  'Is  stupidity  a  sin?'  You  may  not  recall 
that  a  learned  Christian  writer — I  am  not  sure  but  that 
it  was  Saint  Francis  de  Sales,— holds  that  stupidity  is 
a  sin." 

The  others  had  stopped,  baffled  in  their  debate  over 
the  carnation  and  were  listening  to  Raridan.  They 


BARGAIN  AND  SALE  155 

never  knew  how  much  amusement  he  got  out  of  them; 
they  attributed  great  learning  to  him  and  were  never 
sure  when  he  began  in  this  way  whether  he  was  speak 
ing  in  an  exalted  spiritual  mood  and  from  fullness  of 
knowledge,  or  was  merely  preparing  a  pitfall  for  them. 

Warry  continued : 

"But  while  this  dictum  is  very  generally  accepted 
among  learned  theologians,  it  has  nevertheless  led  to 
many  amusing  discussions  among  men  of  deep  learning 
and  piety  who  have  striven  to  define  and  analyze  stupid 
ity.  It  is,  however,  safe  to  accept  as  the  consensus  of 
their  opinions  these  conclusions."  He  made  his  own 
salad  dressing,  and  paused  now  with  the  oil  cruet  in  his 
hand  while  he  continued  to  address  himself  solely  to 
Wheaton:  "Primarily,  stupidity  is  inevitable;  in  the 
second  place  it  is  an  offense  not  only  to  Deity  but  to 
man;  and  thirdly,  being  incurable,  as" — nodding  first 
toward  Wheelock  and  then  toward  Caldwell — "we  have 
daily,  even  hourly  testimony,  man  is  helpless  and  can 
not  prevail  against  it." 

"Now  will  j^ou  be  good?"  demanded  Wheaton  glee 
fully.  He  had  an  air  of  having  connived  at  Raridan's 
fling  at  them. 

"Oh,  I  don't  think !"  sneered  Caldwell.  "Don't  you 
get  gay!  You're  not  in  this." 

"In  the  name  of  the  saints,  Caldwell,  do  give  us  a 
little  peace,"  begged  Raridan. 

Wheelock  turned  his  attention  to  the  Chinaman  who 
was  serving  them,  and  abused  him,  and  Wheaton  sought 
to  make  talk  with  Raridan,  to  emphasize  their  isola 
tion  and  superiority  to  the  others. 


156  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"That's  good  music  they  have  at  the  cathedral/'  he 
said. 

Brown  now  took  the  scent. 

"Did  you  hear  that,  Wheelock  ?  Well,  I'll  be  damned. 
See  here,  Wheaton,  where  are  you  at  anyhow?  We've 
been  looking  on  you  as  one  of  the  sinners  of  this  house, 
but  if  you've  joined  Randan's  church,  I  see  our  finish." 

"Don't  worry  about  your  finish,  Brown.  It'll  be  a 
scorcher  all  right,"  said  Randan,  "and  while  you  wait 
your  turn  you  might  pass  the  salt." 

There  was  no  common  room  at  The  Bachelors',  and 
the  men  did  not  meet  except  at  the  table.  They  loafed 
in  their  rooms,  and  rarely  visited  one  another.  Karidan 
was  the  most  social  among  them  and  lounged  in  on 
one  or  the  other  in  his  easy  fashion.  They  in  turn 
sought  him  out  to  deride  him,  or  to  poke  among  his 
effects  and  to  ask  him  why  he  never  had  any  interest 
ing  books.  The  books  that  he  was  always  buying — 
minor  poems  and  minor  essays,  did  not  tempt  them.  The 
presence  of  L'lllustrazione  Italiana  on  his  table  from 
week  to  week  amused  them;  they  liked  to  look  at  the 
pictures  and  they  had  once  gone  forth  in  a  body  to  the 
peanut  vender  at  the  next  corner,  to  witness  a  test  of 
Raridan's  Italian,  about  which  they  were  skeptical. 
The  stormy  interview  that  followed  between  Raridan 
and  the  Sicilian  had  been  immensely  entertaining  and 
had  proved  that  Raridan  could  really  buy  peanuts  in 
a  foreign  tongue,  though  the  fine  points  which  he  tried 
to  explain  to  the  bachelors  touching  the  differences  in 
Italian  dialects  did  not  interest  them.  Warry  himself 
was  interested  in  Italian  dialects  for  that  winter  only. 

Wheaton  went  to  his  room  and  made  himself  com- 


BAKGAIN  AND  SALE  157 

fortable.  He  re-read  the  Sunday  papers  through  all 
their  supplements,  dwelling  again  on  the  events  of  the 
carnival.  He  had  saved  all  the  other  papers  that  con 
tained  carnival  news,  and  now  brought  them  out  and  cut 
from  them  all  references  to  himself.  He  resolved  to  open 
a  kind  of  social  scrap  book  in  which  to  preserve  a  record 
of  his  social  doings.  The  joint  portraits  of  the  king 
and  queen  of  the  carnival  had  not  been  very  good;  the 
picture  of  Evelyn  Porter  was  a  caricature.  In  Kari- 
dan's  room  he  had  seen  a  photograph  of  Evelyn  as  a 
child ;  it  was  very  pretty,  and  Wheaton,  too,  remembered 
her  from  the  days  in  which  she  wore  her  hair  down 
her  back  and  waited  in  the  carriage  at  the  front  door 
of  the  bank  for  her  father.  She  had  lived  in  a  world 
far  removed  from  him  then;  but  now  the  chasm  had 
been  bridged.  He  had  heard  it  said  in  the  last  year 
that  Evelyn  and  Warry  were  undoubtedly  fated  to 
marry ;  but  others  hinted  darkly  that  some  Eastern  man 
would  presently  appear  on  the  scene. 

All  this  gossip  Wheaton  turned  over  in  his  mind,  as 
he  lay  on  his  divan,  with  the  cuttings  from  the  Clarkson 
papers  in  his  hands.  He  remembered  a  complaint  often 
heard  in  Clarkson  that  there  were  no  eligible  men 
there;  he  was  not  sure  just  what  constituted  eligibility, 
but  as  he  reviewed  the  men  that  went  about  he  could 
not  see  that  they  possessed  any  advantages  over  him 
self.  It  occurred  to  him  for  the  first  time  that  he 
was  the  only  unmarried  bank  cashier  in  town ;  and  this 
in  itself  conferred  a  distinction.  He  was  not  so  secure 
in  his  place  as  he  should  like  to  be ;  if  Thompson  died 
there  would  undoubtedly  be  a  reorganization  of  the 
bank  and  the  few  shares  that  Porter  had  sold  to  him 


158  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

would  not  hold  the  cashiership  for  him.  It  might  be 
that  Porter's  plan  was  to  keep  him  in  the  place  until 
Grant  grew  up.  Again,  he  reflected,  the  man  who 
married  Evelyn  Porter  would  become  an  element  to 
reckon  with ;  and  yet  if  he  were  to  be  that  man — 

He  slept  and  dreamed  that  he  was  king  of  a  great 
realm  and  that  Evelyn  Porter  reigned  with  him  as 
queen;  then  he  awoke  with  a,  start  to  find  that  it  was 
late.  He  sat  up  on  the  couch  and  gathered  together 
the  newspaper  cuttings  which  had  fallen  about  him. 
He  remembered  the  imperative  summons  which  had 
been  left  for  him  during  the  morning;  it  was  already 
six  o'clock.  Before  going  out  he  changed  his  clothes 
to  a  rough  business  suit  and  took  a  car  that  bore  him 
rapidly  through  the  business  district  and  beyond,  into 
the  older  part  of  Clarkson.  The  locality  was  very 
shabby,  and  when  he  left  the  car  presently  it  was  to 
continue  his  journey  in  an  ill-lighted  street  over  board 
walks  which  yielded  a  precarious  footing.  The  Occi 
dental  Hotel  was  in  the  old  part  of  town,  and  had  long 
ago  ceased  to  be  what  it  had  once  been,  the  first 
hostelry  of  Clarkson.  It  had  descended  to  the  level  of 
a  cheap  boarding  house,  little  patronized  except  by  the 
rougher  element  of  cattlemen  and  by  railroad  crews 
that  found  it  convenient  to  the  yards.  Over  the  door 
a,  dim  light  blinked,  and  this,  it  was  understood  in 
the  neighborhood,  meant  not  merely  an  invitation  to 
bed  and  board  but  also  to  the  Occidental  bar,  which 
was  accessible  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night,  and 
was  open  through  all  the  spasms  of  virtue  with  which 
the  city  administration  was  seized  from  time  to  time. 


BARGAIN  AND  SALE  159 

Tile  door  stood  open  and  Wheaton  stepped  up  to  the 
counter  on  which  a  boy  sat  playing  with  a  cat. 

"Is  William  Snyder  stopping  here?"  he  asked. 

The  boy  looked  up  lazily  from  his  play. 

"Are  you  the  gent  he's  expecting?" 

"Very  likely.     Is  he  in?" 

"Yes,  he's  number  eighteen."  He  dropped  the  cat 
and  led  Wheaton  down  a  dark  hall  which  was  stale 
with  the  odors  of  cooked  vegetables,  up  a  steep  flight 
of  stairs  to  a  landing  from  which  he  pointed  to  an 
oblong  of  light  above  a  door. 

"There  you  are,"  said  the  boy.  He  kicked  the  door 
and  retreated  down  the  stairs,  leaving  Wheaton  to  obey 
the  summons  to  enter  which  was  bawled  from  within. 

William  Snyder  unfolded  his  long  figure  and  rose  to 
greet  his  visitor. 

"Well,  Jim,"  he  said,  putting  out  his  hand.  "I  hope 
you're  feelin'  out  of  sight,"  Wheaton  took  his  hand 
and  said  good  evening.  He  threw  open  his  coat  and 
put  down  his  hat. 

"A  little  fresh  air  wouldn't  hurt  you  any,"  he  said, 
tipping  himself  back  in  his  chair. 

"Well,  I  guess  your  own  freshness  will  make  up  for 
it,"  said  Snyder. 

Wheaton  did  not  smile;  he  was  very  cool  and  master 
of  the  situation. 

"I  came  to  see  what  you  want,  and  it  had  better  not 
be  much." 

"Oh,  you  cheer  up,  Jim,"  said  Snyder  with  his  ugly 
grin.  "I  don't  know  that  you've  ever  done  so  much  for 
me.  I  don't  want  you  to  forget  that  I  did  time  for  you 
once." 


160  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"You'd  better  not  rely  on  that  too  much.  I  was  a 
poor  little  kid  and  all  the  mischief  I  ever  knew  I 
learned  from  you.  What  is  it  you  want  now?" 

"Well,  Jim,  you've  seen  fit  to  get  me  fired  from  that 
nice  lonesome  job  you  got  me,  back  in  the  country." 

"I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  The  ranch  owners 
sent  a  man  here  to  represent  them  and  I  had  nothing 
more  to  do  with  it.  The  fact  is  I  stretched  a  point  to 
put  you  in  there.  Mr.  Saxton  has  taken  the  whole  mat 
ter  of  the  ranch  out  of  my  hands." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  anything  about  that,"  said 
Snyder  contemptuously.  "But  that  don't  make  any 
difference.  I'm  out,  and  I  don't  know  but  I'm  glad 
to  be  out.  That  was  a  fool  job;  about  the  lonesomest 
thing  I  ever  struck.  Your  friend  Saxton  didn't  seem 
to  take  a  shine  to  me;  wanted  me  to  go  chasing  cattle 
all  over  the  whole  Northwest — " 

"He  flattered  you,"  said  Wheaton,  a  faint  smile 
drawing  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

"None  of  that  kind  of  talk,"  returned  Snyder 
sharply.  "Now  what  you  got  to  say  for  yourself?" 

"It  isn't  necessary  for  me  to  say  anything  about  my 
self,"  said  Wheaton  coolly.  "What  I'm  going  to  say  is 
that  you've  got  to  get  out  of  here  in  a  hurry  and  stay 
out." 

Snyder  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  recrossed  his 
legs  on  the  table. 

"Don't  get  funny,  Jim.  Large  bodies  move  slow. 
It  took  me  a  long  time  to  find  you  and  I  don't  intend 
to  let  go  in  a  hurry." 

"I  have  no  more  jobs  for  you ;  if  you  stay  about  here 
you'll  get  into  trouble.  I  was  a  fool  to  send  you  to  that 


BARGAIN  AND  SALE  161 

ranch.  I  heard  about  your  little  round  with  the  sheriff, 
and  the  gambling  you  carried  on  in  the  ranch  house." 

"Well,  when  you  admit  you're  a  fool  you're  getting 
on,"  said  Snyder  with  a  chuckle. 

"Now  I'm  going  to  make  you  a  fair  offer;  I'll  give 
you  one  hundred  dollars  to  clear  out, — go  to  Mexico 
or  Canada. — " 

"Or  hell  or  any  comfortable  place,"  interrupted  Sny 
der  derisively. 

"And  not  come  here  again,"  continued  Wheaton 
calmly.  "If  you  do — !" 

It  was  to  be  a  question  of  bargain  and  sale,  as  both 
men  realized. 

"Raise  your  price,  Jim,"  said  Snyder.  "A  hundred 
wouldn't  take  me  very  far." 

"Oh  yes,  it  will ;  I  propose  buying  your'ticket  myself." 

Snyder  laughed  his  ugly  laugh. 

"Well,  you  ain't  very  complimentary.  You'd  ought 
to  have  invited  me  to  your  party  the  other  night,  Jim. 
I'd  like  to  have  seen  you  doing  stunts  as  a  king.  That 
was  the  worst," — he  wagged  his  head  and  chuckled. 
"A  king,  a  real  king,  and  your  picture  put  into  the 
papers  along  of  the  millionaire's  daughter, — well,  you 
may  damn  me!" 

"What  I'll  do,"  Wheaton  went  on  undisturbed,  "is  to 
buy  you  a  ticket  to  Spokane  to-morrow.  I'll  meet  you 
here  and  give  you  your  transportation  and  a  hundred 
dollars  in  cash.  Now  that's  all  I'll  do  for  you,  and  it's 
a  lot  more  than  you  deserve." 

"Oh,  no  it  ain't,"  said  Snyder. 

"And  it's  the  last  I'U  ever  do." 


162  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

''Don't  be  too  sure  of  that.  I  want  five  hundred  and 
a  regular  allowance,  say  twenty-five  dollars  a  month." 

"I  don't  intend  to  fool  with  you/'  said  Wheaton 
sharply.  He  rose  and  picked  up  his  hat.  "What  I 
offer  you  is  out  of  pure  kindness;  we  may  as  well  un 
derstand  each  other.  You  and  I  are  walking  along 
different  lines.  I'd  be  glad  to  see  you  succeed  in  some 
honorable  business ;  you're  not  too  old  to  begin.  I  can't 
have  you  around  here.  It's  out  of  the  question — my 
giving  you  a  pension.  I  can't  do  anything  of  the  kind." 

His  tone  gradually  softened;  he  took  on  an  air  of 
patient  magnanimity. 

Snyder  broke  in  with  a  sneer. 

"Look  here,  Jim,  don't  try  the  goody-goody  business 
on  me.  You  think  you're  mighty  smooth  and  you're 
mighty  good  and  you're  gettin'  on  pretty  fast.  Your 
picture  in  the  papers  is  mighty  handsome,  and  you 
looked  real  swell  in  them  fine  clothes  up  at  the  banker's 
talkin'  to  that  girl/' 

"That's  another  thing,"  said  Wheaton,  still  stand 
ing.  "I  ought  to  refuse  to  do  anything  for  you  after 
that.  Getting  drunk  and  attacking  me  couldn't  possi 
bly  do  you  jor  me  any  good.  It  was  sheer  luck  that  you 
weren't  turned  over  to  the  police." 

Snyder  chuckled. 

"That  old  preacher  gave  me  a  pretty  hard  jar." 

"You  ought  to  be  jarred.  You're  no  good.  You 
haven't  even  been  successful  in  your  own  particular  line 
of  business." 

"There  ain't  nothing  against  me  anywhere,"  said 
Snyder,  doggedly. 

"I     have     different     information,"     said     Wheaton, 


BARGAIN  Ai\TD  SALE  163 

blandly.  "There  was  the  matter  of  that  post-office 
robbery  in  Michigan;  attempted  bank  robbery  in  Wis 
consin,  and  a  few  little  things  of  that  sort  scattered 
through  the  country,  that  make  a  pretty  ugly  list.  But 
they  say  you're  not  very  strong  in  the  profession."  Ho 
smiled  an  unpleasant  smile. 

Snyder  drew  his  feet  from  the  table  and  jumped  up 
with  an  oath. 

"Look  here,  Jim,  if  you  ain't  playin'  square  with 


"I  intend  playing  more  than  square  with  you,  but 
I  want  you  to  know  that  Pm  not  afraid  of  you;  I've 
taken  the  trouble  to  look  you  up.  The  Pinkertons  have 
long  memories,"  he  said,  significantly. 

Snyder  was  visibly  impressed,  and  Wheaton  made 
haste  to  follow  up  his  advantage. 

"You've  got  to  get  away  from  here,  Billy,  and  be  in 
a  hurry  about  it.  How  much  money  have  you  ?" 

"Not  a  red  cent." 

"What  became  of  that  money  Mr.  Saxton  gave  you?" 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth  I  owed  a  few  little  bills  back 
at  Great  River  and  I  settled  up,  like  any  square  man 
would." 

"If  you  told  the  truth,  you'd  say  you  drank  up  what 
you  hadn't  gambled  away."  Wheaton  moved  toward 
the  door. 

"At  eight  to-morrow  night." 

"Make  it  two  hundred,  Jim,"  whined  Snyder. 

Wheaton  paused  in  the  door;  Snyder  had  followed 
him.  They  were  the  same  height  as  they  stood  up 
together. 

"That's  too  much  money  to  trust  you  with." 


164  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"The  more  money  the  farther  I  can  get/'  pleaded 
Snyder. 

"I'll  be  here  at  eight  to-morrow  evening,"  said 
Wheaton,  "and  you  stay  here  until  I  come." 

"Give  me  a  dollar  on  account;  I  haven't  a  cent." 

"You're  better  off  that  way;  I  want  to  find  you 
sober  to-morrow  night."  He  went  out  and  closed  the 
door  after  him. 

Two  or  three  men  who  were  sitting  in  the  office  be 
low  eyed  Wheaton  curiously  as  he  went  out.  The 
thought  that  they  might  recognize  him  from  his  por 
traits  in  the  papers  pleased  him. 

He  retraced  his  steps  from  the  hotel  and  boarded 
a  car  filled  with  people  of  the  laboring  class  who  were 
returning  from  an  outing  in  the  suburbs.  They  were 
making  merry  in  a  strange  tongue,  and  their  boisterous 
mirth  was  an  offense  to  him.  He  was  a  gentleman  of 
position  returning  from  an  errand  of  philanthropy,  and 
he  remained  on  the  platform,  where  the  atmosphere 
was  purer  than  that  within,  which  was  contaminated  by 
the  rough  young  Swedes  and  their  yellow-haired  sweet 
hearts.  When  he  reached  The  Bachelors'  the  dozing 
Chinaman  told  him  that  all  the  others  were  out.  He 
went  to  his  room  and  spent  the  rest  of  the  evening 
reading  a  novel  which  he  had  heard  Evelyn  Porter 
mention  the  night  that  he  had  dined  at  her  house. 

The  next  day  he  bought  a  ticket  to  Spokane,  and 
drew  one  hundred  dollars  from  his  account  in  the 
bank.  He  went  at  eight  o'clock  to  the  Occidental  to 
keep  his  appointment,  and  found  Snyder  patiently 
waiting  for  him  in  the  hotel  office,  holding  a  shabby 
valise  between  his  knees. 


BARGAIN  AND  SALE  165 

"You'll  have  to  pay  my  bill  before  I  take  this  oiit," 
said  Snyder  grinning,,  and  Wheaton  gave  him  money 
and  waited  while  he  paid  at  the  counter.  The  pro 
prietor  recognized  Wheaton  and  nodded  to  him. 
Questions  were  not  asked  at  the  Occidental. 

At  the  railway  station  Wheaton  stepped  inside  the 
door  and  pulled  two  sealed  envelopes  from  his  pocket. 
"Here's  your  ticket,  and  here's  your  money.  The 
ticket's  good  through  to  Spokane;  and  that's  your 
train,  the  first  one  in  the  shed.  Now  I  want  you  to 
understand  that  this  is  the  last  time,  Billy;  you've  got 
to  work  and  make  your  own  living.  I  can't  do  any 
thing  more  for  you;  and  what's  more,  I  won't." 

"All  right,  Jim,"  said  Snyder.  "You  won't  ever  lose 
anything  by  helping  me  along.  You're  in  big  luck  and 
it  ain't  going  to  hurt  you  to  give  me  a  little  boost  now 
and  then." 

"This  is  the  last  time,"  said  Wheaton,  firmly,  angry 
at  Snyder's  hint  for  further  assistance. 

Snyder  put  out  his  hand. 

"Good  by,  Jim,"  he  said. 

"Good  by,  Billy." 

Wheaton  stood  inside  the  station  and  watched  the 
man  cross  the  electric-lighted  platform,  show  his  ticket 
at  the  gate,  and  walk  to  the  train.  He  still  waited, 
watching  the  car  which  the  man  boarded,  until  the 
train  rolled  out  into  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   GIEL   THAT   TRIES   HARD 

The  Girl  That  Tries  Hard  was  giving  a  dance  at 
the  Country  Club.  The  Girl  That  Tries  Hard  was 
otherwise  Mabel  Margrave,,  wherein  lay  the  only  point 
of  difference  between  herself  and  other  Girls  That  Try 
Hard.  There  was  hardly  room  in  Clarkson  for  cliques; 
and  yet  one  often  heard  the  expression  "Mabel  Mar 
grave  and  her  set"  and  this  indicated  that  Mabel  Mar 
grave  had  a  following  and  that  to  some  extent  she  was 
a  leader.  She  prided  herself  on  doing  things  differ 
ently,  which  is  what  The  Girl  That  Tries  Hard  is  for 
ever  doing  everywhere.  She  was  the  only  girl  in  the 
town  that  gave  dinners  at  the  Clarkson  Club;  and 
while  these  functions  were  not  necessarily  a  shock  to 
the  Clarkson  moral  sense,  yet  the  first  of  .these  enter 
tainments,  at  which  Mabel  Margrave  danced  a  skirt 
dance  at  the  end  of  the  dinner,  caused  talk  in  con 
servative  circles.  It  might  be  assumed  that  Mabel's 
father  and  mother  could  have  checked  her  exuberance, 
but  the  fact  was  that  Mabel's  parents  wielded  little  in 
fluence  in  their  own  household.  Timothy  Margrave 
was  busy  with  his  railroad  and  his  wife  was  a  timid, 
shrinking  person,  who  viewed  her  daughter's  social  per 
formances  with  wonder  and  admiration.  It  would 

166 


THE  GIRL  THAT  TRIES  HARD          167 

have  been  much  better  for  Mabel  if  she  had  not  tried 
so  hard,  but  this  was  something  that  she  did  not  un 
derstand,  and  there  was  no  one  to  teach  her.  She  de 
rived  an  immense  pleasure  from  her  father's  private 
car,,  in  which  she  had  been  over  most  of  the  United 
States,  and  had  gone  even  to  Mexico.  In  the  Margrave 
household  it  was  always  spoken  of  as  "the  car."  Its 
cook  and  porter  were  kept  on  the  pay-roll  of  the  com 
pany,  but  when  they  were  not  on  active  service  in  the 
car,  one  of  them  drove  the  Margrave  carriage,  and  the 
other  opened  the  Margrave  front  door. 

The  Margrave  house  was  one  of  the  handsomest  in 
Clarkson.  Margrave  had  not  coursed  in  the  orbits  of 
luminaries  greater  than  himself  without  acquiring 
wisdom.  When  he  built  a  house  he  turned  the  whole 
matter  over  to  a  Boston  architect  with  instructions  to 
go  ahead  just  as  if  a  gentleman  had  employed  him; 
he  did  not  want  a  house  which  his  neighbors  could 
say  was  exactly  what  any  one  would  expect  of  the  Mar 
graves.  Clarkson  was  proud  of  the  Margrave  house, 
which  was  better  than  the  Porter  house,  though  it 
lacked  the  setting  of  the  Porter  grounds.  The  archi 
tect  had  done  everything;  Margrave  kept  his  own 
hands  off  and  sent  his  wife  and  Mabel  abroad  to  stay 
until  it  was  ready  for  occupancy.  When  the  house  was 
nearly  completed  Margrave  took  Warry  Raridan  up  to 
see  it  and  displayed  with  pride  a  large  and  handsomely 
furnished  library  whose  ample  shelves  were  devoid  of 
books. 

"Now,  Warry,"  he  said,  "I  want  books  for  this  house 
and  I  want  'em  right.  I  never  read  any  books,  and  I 
never  expect  to,  and  I  guess  the  rest  of  the  family  ain't 


1G8  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

very  literary,  either.  I  want  you  to  fill  these  shelves, 
and  I  don't  want  trash.  Are  you  on?" 

The  situation  appealed  to  Warry  and  he  had  given 
his  best  attention  to  Margrave's  request.  He  took  his 
time  and  bought  a  representative  library  in  good  bind 
ings.  As  Mrs.  Margrave  was  a  Roman.  Catholic,  Warry 
thought  it  well  that  theological  literature  should  be 
represented.  Mrs.  Margrave's  parish  priest,  dining  early 
at  the  new  home,  contemplated  the  "libery,"  as  its 
owner  called  it,  with  amazement. 

"Ain't  they  all  there,  Father  Done-van?"  asked  Mar 
grave.  "I  hope  you  like  my  selection." 

"Couldn't  be  better,"  declared  the  priest,  "if  I'd 
picked  them  myself."  He  had  taken  down  a  volume  of 
a  rare  edition  of  Cornelius  a  Lapide  and  passed  his 
hand  over  the  Latin  title  page  with  a  scholar's  satis 
faction. 

Mabel  had  declined  to  go  to  the  convent  which  her 
mother  selected  for  her;  convents  were  not  fashionable; 
and  she  herself  selected  Tyringham  because  she  had 
once  met  a  Tyringham  graduate  who  was  the  most 
"stylish"  girl  she  had  ever  seen.  Since  her  return  from 
school  she  had  found  it  convenient  to  abandon,  'as  far  as 
possible,  the  church  of  her  baptism.  There  had  been 
no  other  Roman  Catholics  at  her  school;  the  Episcopal 
church  was  the  official  spiritual  channel  of  Tyringham ; 
and  she  brought  home  a  pretty  Anglican  prayer  book, 
and  attended  early  masses  with  her  mother  only  to  the 
end  that  she  might  go  later  to  the  services  of  St.  Paul's, 
to  the  scandal  of  Father  Donovan,  and  somewhat  to 
the  sneaking  delight  of  her  father.  Margrave  held 
that  religion  of  whatever  kind  was  a  matter  for  women, 


THE  GIRL  THAT  TRIES  HARD          169 

and  that  they  were  entitled  to  their  whim  about  it. 

Tyringham  is,  it  is  well  known,  a  place  where  girls 
of  the  proper  instinct  and  spirit  acquire  a  manner  that 
is  everywhere  unmistakable.  Mabel  had  given  new 
grace  and  impressiveness  to  Tyringham  itself;  she 
touched  nothing  that  she  did  not  improve,  and  she 
came  home  with  an  ambition  to  give  tone  to  Clarkson 
society.  A  great  phrase  with  Mabel  was  The  Men; 
this  did  not  mean  the  genus  homo  in  any  philosophical 
abstraction,  but  certain  young  gentlemen  that  followed 
much  in  her  train.  There  were  a  few  young  women 
who  were  much  in  Mabel's  company  and  who  con 
scientiously  imitated  Mabel's  ways.  All  the  devices  and 
desires  of  Mabel's  heart  tended  toward  one  consumma 
tion,  and  that  was  the  destruction  of  monotony. 

Mabel  had  announced  to  a  few  of  her  cronies  that 
she  would  show  Evelyn  Porter  how  things  were  done; 
and  as  the  Country  Club  was  new,  she  chose  it  as  the 
place  for  her  exhibition.  Mabel  was  two  years  older 
than  Evelyn;  they  had  never  been  more  than  casually 
acquainted,  and  now  that  Evelyn's  college  days  were 
over, — Mabel  had  "finished"  several  years  before, — and 
they  were  to  live  in  the  same  town,  it  seemed  expedient 
to  the  older  girl  to  take  the  initiative,  to  the  end  that 
their  respective  positions  in  the  community  might  be 
definitely  fixed.  Evelyn's  name  carried  far  more 
prestige  than  Mabel's;  the  Margraves  had  not  been  in 
the  Clarkson  Blue  Book  at  all,  until  Mabel  came  home 
from  school  and  demonstrated  her  right  to  enlistment 
among  the  elect. 

She  dressed  herself  as  sumptuously  as  she  dared  for 
a  morning  call  and  drove  the  highest  trap  that  Clark- 


170  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

son  had  ever  seen  up  Porter  Hill.  The  man  beside 
her  was  the  only  correctly  liveried  adjunct  of  any 
Clarkson  stable, — at  least  this  was  Mabel's  opinion. 
Whatever  people  said  of  Mabel  and  her  ways,  they 
could  not  deny  that  her  clothes  were  good,  though  they 
were  usually  a  trifle  pronounced  in  color  and  cut.  She 
wore  about  her  neck  a  long,  thin  chain  from  which 
dangled  a  silver  heart.  Mabel's  was  the  largest  that 
could  be  found  at  any  Chicago  jeweler's.  Its  purpose 
in  Mabel's  case  was  to  convey  to  the  curious  the  im 
pression  that  there  was  a  photograph  of  a  young  man 
inside.  This  was  no  fraud  on  Mabel's  part,  for  she 
carried  in  this  trinket  the  photograph  of  a  popular 
actor,  whose  pictures  were  purchasable  anywhere  in  the 
country  at  twenty-five  cents  each.  While  Mabel  waited 
for  Evelyn  to  appear,  she  threw  open  her  new  driving 
'coat,  which  forced  the  season  a  trifle,  and  studied  the 
furnishings  of  the  Porter  parlor,  criticising  them  ad 
versely.  She  was  not  clear  in  her  mind  whether  she 
should  call  Evelyn  "Miss  Porter"  or  not.  Clarkson' 
people  usually  said  "Evelyn  Porter"  when  speaking  of 
her.  In  Mabel's  own  case  they  all  said  "Mabel." 

When  Evelyn  came  into  the  parlor  she  seemed  very 
tall  to  Mabel,  and  impulse  solved  the  problem  of  how 
to  address  her. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Porter." 

She  gave  her  hand  to  Evelyn,  thrusting  it  out 
straight  before  her,  yet  hanging  back  from  it  archly  as 
if  in  rebuke  of  her  own  forwardness.  This  was  decid 
edly  Tyringhamesquc,  and  was  only  one  of  the  many 
amiable  and  useful  things  she  had  learned  at  Miss 
Alton's  school. 


THE  GIRL  THAT  TRIES  HARD          171 

Mabel  sat  up  very  straight  in  her  chair  when  she 
talked,  and  played  with  the  silver  heart. 

"I  didn't  ask  for  the  others,  as  it's  a  wretchedly 
indecent  hour  to  be  making  a  call/' 

"Oh,  the  girls  are  up  and  about,"  said  Evelyn.  "I 
shall  be  glad—" 

"Oh,  please  don't  trouble  to  call  them!  I  came  on 
an  errand.  You  know  the  Country  Club  has  just  taken 
a  new  lease  of  life.  Have  you  been  out  yet  ?  It's  a  bit 
crude" — this  phrase  was  taught  as  a  separate  course  at 
Tyringham — '"but  there's  the  making  of  a  lovely  place 
there." 

"Yes,  I've  barely  seen  it.  I  went  out  the  other  day 
to  look  at  the  golf  course.  The  golf  wave  seems  to  be 
sweeping  the  country." 

"Do  you  play?" 

"A  little;  we  had  a  course  near  the  college  that  we 
used." 

"You  college  girls  are  awfully  athletic.  I'm  crazy 
about  golf.  I  thought  it  might  be  good  sport  to  ask 
a  few  girls  and  some  of  the  men  to  go  to  the  club  for 
supper, — we  really  couldn't  have  dinner  there,  you 
know.  This  heavenly  weather  won't  last  always.  We'll 
get  a  drag  and  Captain  Wheelock  will  see  that  I  don't 
drive  you  into  trouble.  He's  a  very  safe  whip,  you 
know,  if  I'm  not;  and  we'll  come  back  in  the  moon 
light.  This  includes  your  guests,  of  course." 

"That  will  be  delightful,"  said  Evelyn.  "I'm  sure 
we'll  all  be  glad  to  go.  I'm  anxious  to  have  the  girls 
see  as  much  as  possible.  I  want  them  to  be  favorably 
impressed,  and  this  will  be  an  event." 

When  Mabel  had  taken  herself  off,  Evelyn  returned 


172  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

to  the  tower  where  Belle  Marshall  and  Annie  Warren 
awaited  her.  These  young  women  were  lounging  in  the 
low  window-seat  exchanging  reminiscences  of  college 
days. 

"It  was  Mabel  Margrave/'  explained  Evelyn.  "She's 
asked  us  to  go  coaching  with  her  to  the  Country  Club 
and  have  supper  there  and  I  took  the  liberty  of  ac 
cepting  for  you." 

"What's  she  like  ?"  asked  Annie. 

"Tyringham,"  said  Evelyn  succinctly. 

"Oh !  your  words  affect  me  strangely,  child/'  drawled 
Belle,  casting  up  her  eyes  in  a  pretended  imitation  of 
the  Tyringham  manner. 

"How  are  her  asf  asked  Annie. 

"Broader  than  the  Atlantic.  I  think  she  wants  to 
patronize  me.  She's  a  real  Tyrmgham  in  that  shs 
thinks  us  college  women  very  slow." 

"Well,  they  do  have  a  style/'  said  Belle,  sighing. 
"You  can  always  tell  one  of  Miss  Alton's  girls." 

"Yes,  there's  no  doubt  about  that,"  retorted  Annie 
coolly.  She  had  taken  her  education  seriously  and 
was  disposed  to  look  down  upon  the  product  of  fashion 
able  boarding  schools. 

"Cheer  up !  The  worst  is  yet  to  come,"  declared 
Evelyn.  "You'd  better  not  encourage  the  idea  here 
that  we  are  different  from  young  women  of  any  other 
sort.  I've  got  to  live  here!  I'm  going  to  be  pretty 
lonely  too,  the  first  thing  you  know,  after  you  desert 
me." 

"You'll  have  plenty  of  chances  to  root  for  the  college," 
suggested  Belle.  "You  won't  have  anything  like  the 
time  I'll  have.  In  Virginia  we  have  traditions  that 


THE  GIRL  THAT  TRIES  HARD          173 

I've  got  to  reconcile  myself  to,  in  some  way;  out  here, 
you  can  start  even." 

"Yes,  and  we  have  the  Tyringham  type,  and  a  few  of 
the  convent  sort,,  and  a  few  of  the  co-eds  to  combat/' 

"Well,  there's  nothing  so  radically  wrong  with  the 
co-eds,  is  there?"  asked  Annie,  who  believed  in  educa 
tion  for  its  own  sake. 

"Only  the  ones  that  want  to  go  in  for  politics  and 
that  sort  of  thing.  There's  a  lady — I  said  lady — • 
doctor  of  philosophy  here  in  town  who  casually  in 
vited  me  to  become  a  candidate  for  school  commissioner 
a  few  weeks  ago." 

"I'm  not  sure  that  you  oughtn't  to  have  done  it," 
said  Annie,  "assuming  that  you  declined.  It  would 
have  been  a  good  stroke  for  alma  mater." 

"No;  that's  what  it  wouldn't  have  been,"  said 
Evelyn  seriously.  "If  you  and  I  believe  that  college 
education  is  good  for  women,  we'd  better  suppress  this 
notion  that's  abroad  in  the  world  that  college  makes 
a  woman  different.  I  hold  that  we're  not  necessarily 
unlike  our  sisters  of  the  convent,  or  the  Tyringham 
teach-you-how-to-enter-a-room  variety."  Evelyn  drew 
herself  up  with  an  oratorical  gesture  and  inflection. 
"I'm  here  to  defend  my  rights  as  a  human  being — " 

"You  will  be  hit  with  a  pillow  in  a  minute,"  re 
marked  Belle,  rising  and  preparing  to  make  her  threat 
good.  "Let's  talk  about  what  to  wear  to  Lady  Tyring- 
ham's  party." 


CHAPTER  XV 

AT  THE   COUNTRY  CLUB 

To  show  that  she  was  not  limited  to  her  own  par 
ticular  set  in  her  choice  of  guests,  Mabel  had  asked 
Raridan,  whom  she  wished  to  know  better,  and 
Wheaton,  who  had  danced  with  her  at  the  carnival 
ball,  to  be  of  her  party.  Chaperons  were  tolerated 
but  not  required  in  Clarkson.  For  this  reason  Mabel 
had  thought  it  wise  to  ask  Mrs.  Whipple,  whom  she 
wished  to  impress;  and  as  she  liked  to  surprise  her 
fellow  citizens,  it  was  worth  while  in  this  instance  to 
yield  something  to  the  convenances.  The  general  was 
too  old  for  such  nonsense;  but  he  was  willing  to 
sacrifice  his  wife,  and  she  went,  giving  as  her  excuse 
for  taking  "that  Margrave  girl's  bait/'  that  she  was 
doing  it  in  Evelyn's  interest. 

The  coach  rolled  with  loud  yodeling  to  the  Porter 
door,  where  there  was  much  laughing  and  bantering  as 
the  guests  settled  into  their  places.  When  the  locked 
wheels  ground  the  hillside  and  the  horn  was  bravely 
blown  by  an  admirer  of  Mabel's  from  Keokuk,  it  was 
clear  to  every  one  that  Timothy  Margrave's  daughter 
was  achieving  another  triumph.  The  young  man  from 
Keokuk  was  zealous  with  the  horn ;  a  four-in-hand  was 
not  often  seen  in  the  streets  of  Clarkson,  albeit  this 

174 


AT  THE  COUNTRY  CLUB  175 

same  vehicle  was  always  to  be  had  from  the  leading 
liveryman,  and  town  and  country  turned  admiring  eyes 
on  the  party  as  the  coach  rolled  along  in  the  golden 
haze  of  early  October.  The  sun  warmed  the  dry  air; 
and  far  across  the  Missouri  flats  its  light  fell  mildly 
upon  yellow  bluffs  where  the  clay  was  exposed  in  broad 
surfaces  which  held  the  light.  The  foliage  of  the  hills 
beyond  the  river  was  lit  with  color  in  many  places;  a 
shower  in  the  morning  had  freshened  the  green  things 
of  earth,  giving  them  a  new,  brief  lease  of  life,  and 
there  was  no  dust  in  the  highways.  In  such  a  day  the 
dying  year  bends  benignantly  to  earth  and  is  fain  to 
loiter  in  the  ways  of  youth. 

The  paint  was  still  fresh  in  the  club  house,  which 
was  a  long  bungalow,  set  in  a  clump  of  cottonwoods. 
There  was  an  amplitude  of  veranda,  and  the  rooms 
within  were  roughly  furnished  in  Texas  pine.  The 
older  people  of  the  town  looked  upon  the  club  with 
some  suspicion  as  something  new  and  untried.  The 
younger  element  was  just  beginning  to  know  the  im 
plements  and  vocabulary  of  golf.  The  first  tee  was 
only  a  few  feet  from  the  veranda,  so  that  a  degree  of 
heroism  and  Christian  resignation  was  essential  in 
those  who  began  their  game  under  the  eyes  of  a  full 
gallery.  There  were  the  usual  members  of  both  sexes 
who  talked  a  good  deal  about  their  swing  without 
really  having  any  worth  mentioning;  and  there  were 
others  more  given  to  reading  the  golf  news  in  the  golf 
papers  at  the  club  house,  than  to  playing,  to  the  end 
that  they  might  discuss*  the  game  volubly  without  the 
discomfort  of  acquiring  practical  knowledge. 

The  walls  of  the  dining-room  had  not  been  smoothed 


176  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

or  whitened.  They  were  hung  with  prints  which  ranged 
in  subject  from  golf  to  Gibson  girls.  Mabel  had  sup 
plemented  the  meager  furnishings  of  the  club  pantry 
with  embellishments  from  her  own  house,,  and  had  given 
her  own  touch  to  the  table.  As  her  touch  carried  a 
certain  style,  her  crystal  and  silver  shone  to  good  ad 
vantage  under  the  lamps  which  she  had  substituted  for 
the  bare  incandescents  of  the  room.  The  young  man 
from  Keokuk  who  was,  just  then,  as  the  gossips  said, 
"devoted"  to  Mabel,  had  supplied  a  prodigal  array  of 
flowers,  ordered  by  telegraph  from  Chicago  for  the 
occasion.  The  table  was  served  by  colored  men,  who 
had  been  previously  subsidized  by  Mabel,  in  violation  of 
the  club  rules;  and  they  accordingly  made  up  in  zeal 
what  they  lacked  in  skill. 

Mabel  talked  a  great  deal  about  informality,  and  drove 
her  guests  into  the  dining-room  without  any  attempt  at 
order,  and  they  found  their  name-cards  with  the  sur 
prises  and  exclamations  which  usually  characterize  that 
proceeding. 

Captain  Wheelock  sat  at  the  end  of  the  oblong 
table  opposite  Mabel,  who  placed  the  man  from  Keo 
kuk  at  her  right  and  Earidan  at  her  left.  Evelyn 
was  between  Earidan  and  one  of  Mabel's  "men,"  who 
was  evidently  impressed  by  this  propinquity.  He  was 
the  Assistant  General  Something  of  one  of  the  railroads 
and  owned  a  horse  that  was  known  as  far  away  from 
home  as  the  Independence,  Iowa,  track.  There  was  a 
great  deal  of  talking  back  and  forth,  and  Evelyn  told 
herself  that  it  did  not  much  matter  that  her  guests 
had  fallen  into  rather  poor  hands.  She  was  quite  sure 
that  Captain  Wheelock,  who  liked  showy  girls,  would 


AT  THE  COUNTRY  CLUB  177 

not  be  much  interested  in  Annie  Warren,  who  was 
distinctly  not  showy.  Belle  Marshall,,  with  her  drollery, 
was  not  likely  to  be  dismayed  by  Wheaton's  years  and 
poverty  of  small  talk.  Belle  was  not  easily  abashed, 
and  when  the  others  paused  now  and  then  under  the 
spell  of  her  dialect,  which  seemed  funny  when  she  did 
not  mean  it  to  be  so,  she  was  not  distressed.  She  had 
grown  used  to  having  people  listen  to  her  drawl,  and  to 
complimentary  speeches  from  "you  NVthe'neV  on 
her  charming1  accent.  Evelyn  found  that  it  was  un 
necessary  to  talk  to  Earidan;  he  and  Mabel  seemed  to 
get  on  very  well  together,  and  in  her  pique  at  him, 
Evelyn  was  glad  to  have  it  so. 

Mabel's  supper  was  bountiful,  and  Raridan,  who 
thought  he  knew  the  possibilities  of  the  club's  cuisine, 
marveled  at  the  chicken,  fried  in  Maryland  style,  and 
at  the  shoestring  potatoes  and  flaky  rolls,  which 
marked  an  advance  on  anything  that  the  club  kitchen 
had  produced  before.  There  was  champagne  from  the 
stock  which  the  Margraves  carried  in  their  car,  and  it 
foamed  and  bubbled  in  the  Venetian  glasses  that 
Mabel  had  brought  from  home,  at  a  temperature  that 
Mabel  herself  had  regulated.  Captain  Wheelock  made 
much  of  frequently  lifting  his  glass  to  Mabel  in 
imaginary  toasts.  The  man  from  Keokuk  drank  his 
champagne  with  awe;  he  had  heard  that  Mabel  Mar 
grave  was  a  "tank,"  and  he  thought  this  a  delightful 
thing  to  be  said  of  a  girl.  Mrs.  Whipple  noted  with 
wonder  Mabel's  capacity,  while  most  of  the  others  tried 
not  to  be  conscious  of  it.  Mabel  grew  a  little  boisterous 
at  times  through  the  dinner,  but  no  one  dared  think 
that  it  was  the  champagne.  Mrs.  Whipple  remembered 


178  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

with  satisfaction  that  she  had  no  son  to  marry  Mabel. 
There  were,  she  considered,,  certain  things  which  one 
escapes  by  being  childless,  and  a  bibulous  daughter-in- 
law  was  one  of  them. 

Attention  was  arrested  for  a  time  by  a  colloquy  be 
tween  Mrs.  Whipple  and  Captain  Wheelock  as  to  the 
merits  of  army  girls  compared  with  their  civilian  sisters ; 
and  the  whole  table  gave  heed.  Wheelock  maintained 
that  the  army  girl  was  the  only  cosmopolitan  type  of 
American  girl,  and  Mrs.  Whipple  combated  the  idea. 
She  took  the  ground  that  American  girls  are  never 
provincial ;  that  they  all  wear  the  same  clothes,  though, 
she  admitted,  they  wore  them  with  a  difference;  and 
that  the  army  girl  as  a  distinct  type  was  a  myth. 

"My  furniture,"  she  said,  "has  followed  the  flag  as' 
much  as  anybody's;  but  the  army  girl  is  only  a  super 
stition  among  fledgling  lieutenants.  On  my  street  are 
people  from  Maine,  Indiana  and  Georgia.  You  don't 
have  to  go  to  the  army  to  find  cosmopolitan  young 
women;  they  are  the  first  generation  after  the  founders 
of  all  this  western  country.  Eight  here  in  the  Missouri 
valley  are  the  real  Americans.,  made  by  the  mingling 
of  elements  from  everywhere.  Am  I  stepping  on  any 
body's  toes?"  she  asked,  looking  around  suddenly. 

"Oh,  don't  mind  us,"  drawled  Belle,  turning  with  a 
mournful  air  to  Annie. 

"We're  counting  on  you  to  marry  and  settle  amongst 
us,"  said  Mrs.  Whipple  palliatingly. 

"Gentlemen !"  exclaimed  Raridan,  looking  signifi 
cantly  from  one  man  to  another;  "destiny  is  pointing 
to  us !" 

"You're  in  no  danger,  Mr.    Raridan,"    Belle    flung 


AT  THE  COUNTRY  CLUB  179 

back  at  him.     "Miss  Warren  and  I  can  go  back  where 
we  came  from/' 

Raridan's  rage  at  Evelyn  had  spent  itself;  he  was 
ready  for  peace.  She  had  been  politely  indifferent  to 
him  at  the  table.,  to  the  mischievous  joy  of  Belle 
Marshall,  who  had  an  eye  for  such  little  bits  of  comedy. 
As  they  all  stood  about  after  supper  in  the  outer  hall, 
Evelyn  chatted  with  Wheaton,  and  continued  to  be 
oblivious  of  Raridan,  who  watched  her  over  the  shoulder 
of  one  of  Mabel's  particular  allies  and  waited  for  a 
tete-a-tete.  Warry  had  the  skill  of  long  practice  in  such 
matters;  there  were  men  whom  it  was  difficult  to  dis 
lodge,  but  Wheaton  was  not  one  of  them.  He  took 
advantage  of  a  movement  toward  benches  and  chairs  to 
attach  himself  to  Evelyn  and  to  shunt  Wheaton  into 
Belle's  company, — a  manoeuver  which  that  young 
woman  understood  perfectly  and  did  not  enjoy.  There 
was  something  so  open  and  casual  in  Warry's  tactics  that 
the  beholder  was  likely  to  be  misled  by  them.  Evelyn 
was  half  disposed  to  thwart  him ;  he  had  been  distinctly 
disagreeable  at  the  ball,  and  had  not  appeared  at  the 
house  since.  She  knew  what  he  wanted,  and  she  had  no 
intention  of  making  his  approaches  easy.  Some  of  the 
others  moved  toward  the  verandas,  and  Warry  led  the 
way  thither,  while  he  talked  on,  telling  some  bits  of 
news  about  a  common  acquaintance  from  whom  he  had 
just  heard.  It  was  cool  outside  and  she  sent  him  for 
her  cape,  and  then  they  walked  the  length  of  the  long 
promenade.  He  paused  several  times  to  point  out  to  her 
some  of  the  improvements  which  were  to  be  made  in 
the  grounds  the  following  spring.  This  also  was  a  part 
of  the  game;  it  served  to  interrupt  the  walk;  and  he 


180  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

spoke  of  the  guests  at  the  Hill,  and  said  that  it  was  too 
bad  they  had  not  come  when  things  were  livelier.  Then 
he  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  busy  with  his  cigarette. 
Evelyn  gathered  her  golf  cape  about  her,  leaned  against 
a  pillar  and  tapped  the  floor  with  her  shoe. 

"You  haven't  been  particularly  attentive  to  them, 
have  you?"  she  said.  "I  thought  you  really  liked 
them." 

"Of  course  I  like  them,  but  I've  been  very  busy." 
Warry  stared  ahead  of  him  across  the  dim  starlit  golf 
grounds. 

"That's  very  nice,"  she  said,  still  tapping  the  floor 
and  looking  past  him  into  the  night.  "Industry  is  al 
ways  an  excuse  for  any  one.  But,  come  to  think  of  it, 
you  were  very  good  in  showing  them  about  at  the  ball. 
I  appreciate  it,  I'm  sure." 

It  was  of  his  conduct  at  the  ball  that  he  wished  to 
speak;  she  knew  it,  and  tried  to  make  it  hard  for  him. 

"See  here,  Evelyn,  you  know  well  enough  why  I  kept 
away  from  you  that  night.  I  told  you  before  the  ball 
that  I  didn't,— well,  I  didn't  like  it !  If  I  hadn't  cared 
a  whole  lot  it  wouldn't  have  made  any  difference — but 
that  show  was  so  tawdry  and  hideous — " 

Evelyn  readjusted  her  cape  and  sat  down  on  the 
veranda  railing. 

"Oh,  I  was  tawdry,  was  I?"  she  asked,  sweetly.  "I 
knew  some  one  would  tell  me  the  real  truth  about  it 
if  I  waited." 

"I  didn't  come  here  to  have  you  make  fun  of  me," 
he  said,  bitterly.  He  imagined  that  since  the  ball  he 
had  been  suffering  a  kind  of  martyrdom. 

Evelyn  could  not  help  laughing. 


AT  THE  COUNTRY  CLUB  181 

"Poor  Warry !"  she  exclaimed  in  mock  sympathy. 
"What  a  hard  time  you  make  yourself  have !  Just  listen 
to  Mr.  Foster  laughing  on  the  other  side  of  the  porch; 
it  must  be  much  cheerfuller  over  there."  Mr.  Foster 
was  the  young  man  from  Keokuk;  he  wore  a  secret 
society  pin  in  his  cravat,  and  Warry  hated  him  par 
ticularly. 

"What  an  ass  that  fellow  is!"  he  blurted,  savagely. 
He  had  just  lighted  a  fresh  cigarette,  and  threw  away 
the  stump  of  the  discarded  one  with  an  unnecessary 
exercise  of  strength. 

"But  he's  cheerful,  and  has  very  nice  manners!" 
said  Evelyn.  Warry  was  still  looking  away  from  her 
petulantly.  Her  attitude  toward  him  just  now  was  that 
of  an  older  sister  toward  a  young  offending  brother. 
He  felt  that  the  interview  lacked  dignity  on  his  side, 
and  he  swung  around  suddenly. 

"You  know  we  can't  go  on  this  way.  You  know  I 
wouldn't  offend  you  for  anything  in  the  world, — that 
if  I've  been  churlish  it's  simply  because  I  care  a  great 
deal;  because  it  has  hurt  me  to  find  you  getting  mixed 
up  with  the  wrong  people.  If  you  knew  what  your 
coming  home  meant  to  me,  how  much  I've  been  count 
ing  on  it !  and  then  to  find  that  you  wouldn't  meet  me 
on  our  old  friendly  basis,  and  didn't  want  any  sugges 
tions  from  me." 

He  had,  almost  unconsciously,  been  expecting  her  to 
interrupt  him ;  but  she  did  not  do  so,  and  left  him  to 
flounder  along  as  best  he  could.  When  he  paused  help 
lessly,  she  said,  still  like  a  forbearing  sister: 

"I  didn't  know  you  could  be  so  tragic,  Warry.  The 
first  thing  I  know  you'll  be  really  quarreling  with  me, 


182  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

and  I  don't  intend  to  have  that.  Why  don't  you  change 
your  tactics  and  be  a  good  little  boy?  You've  been 
spoiled  by  too  much  indulgence  of  late.  Now  I  don't 
intend  to  spoil  you  a  bit.  You  were  terribly  rude, — 
I  didn't  think  you  capable  of  it,  and  all  because  I 
wouldn't  offend  my  father  and  his  friends  and  other 
very  good  people,  by  refusing  to  take  part  in  the  harm 
less  exercises  of  that  perfectly  ridiculous  but  useful 
society,  the  Knights  of  Midas.  That's  all  over  now; 
and  the  sun  comes  up  every  morning  just  as  it  used  to. 
You  and  I  live  in  the  same  small  town  and  it's  too 
small  to  quarrel  in." 

She  paused  and  laughed,  seeing  how  he  was  swaying 
between  the  impulse  to  accept  her  truce  and  the  inclina 
tion  to  parley  further.  He  had  been  persuading  him 
self  that  he  loved  her,  and  he  had  found  keen  joy  in 
the  misery  into  which  he  had  worked  himself,  thinking 
that  there  was  something  ideal  and  noble  in  his  atti 
tude.  He  did  not  know  Evelyn  as  well  as  he  thought 
he  did;  when  she  came  home  he  had  imagined  that  all 
would  go  smoothly  between  them;  he  had  meant  to 
monopolize  her,  and  to  dictate  to  her  when  need  be. 
He  had  assumed  that  they  would  meet  on  a  plane  that 
would  be  accessible  to  no  other  man  in  Clarkson;  and 
his  conceit  was  shaken  to  find  that  she  was  disposed  to 
be  generously  hospitable  toward  all.  It  was  this  that 
enraged  him  particularly  against  Wheaton,  who  stood 
quite  as  well  with  her,  he  assured  himself,  as  he  did. 
Her  beauty  and  sweetness  seemed  to  mock  him;  if  he 
did  not  love  her  now  as  he  thought  he  did,  he  at  least 
was  deeply  appreciative  of  the  qualities  which  set  her 
apart  from  other  women. 


AT  THE  COUNTRY  CLUB  183 

There  are  men  like  Baridan,  who  are  devoid  of  evil 
impulse,,  and  who  are  swayed  and  touched  by  the  charm 
of  women  through  an  excess  in  themselves  of  that 
nicer  feeling  which  we  call  feminine,  usually  in  de 
preciation,  as  if  it  were  contemptible.  But  there  is 
something  appealing  and  fine  about  it;  it  is  not  alto 
gether  a  weakness;  doers  of  the  world's  worthiest  tasks 
have  been  notable  possessors  of  this  quality.  Earidan 
had  a  true  sense  of  personal  honor,  and  yet  fyis  imagina 
tion  was  strong  enough  to  play  tricks  with  his  con 
science.  He  had  argued  himself  into  a  mood  of  des 
perate  love ;  he  felt  that  he  was  swayed  by  passion ;  but 
it  was  of  jealousy  and  not  of  love. 

Evelyn  walked  a  little  way  toward  the  door  and  he 
followed  gloomily  along.  He  called  her  name  and  she 
paused.  They  were  not  alone  on  the  veranda.,  and  she 
did  not  want  a  scene.  Raridan  began  again: 

"Why,  ever  since  we  were  children  together  I've 
looked  forward  to  this  time.  It  always  seemed  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that  I  should  love  you. 
When  you  went  away  to  college,  I  never  had  any  fear 
that  it  would  make  any  difference;  when  I  saw  you 
down  there  you  were  always  kind, — 

"Of  course  I  was  kind,"  she  interrupted;  "and  I 
don't  mean  to  be  anything  else  now." 

"You  know  what  I  mean,"  he  urged,  though  he  did 
not  know  himself  what  he  meant.  "I  had  no  idea 
that  your  going  away  would  make  any  difference;  if 
I  had  dreamed  of  it,  I  should  have  spoken  long  ago. 
And  when  I  went  to  see  you  those  few  times  at  col 
lege—" 

"Yes,  you  came  and  I  was  awfully  glad  to  see  you, 


184  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

too;  but  how  many  women's  colleges  have  you  visited 
in  these  four  years?  There  was  that  Brooklyn  girl 
you  were  devoted  to  at  Bryn  Mawr;  and  that  pretty 
little  French  Canadian  you  rushed  at  Wellesley, — but 
of  course  I  don't  pretend  to  know  the  whole  catalogue 
of  them.  That  was  all  perfectly  proper,  you  under 
stand;  I'm  not  complaining — " 

"No ;  I  wish  you  were/'  he  said,  bitterly.  If  he  had 
known  it,  he  was  really  enjoying  this;  there  was,  per 
haps,  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  a  little  vanity  which 
these  reminiscences  appealed  to.  He  rallied  now: 

"But  you  could  afford  to  have  me  see  other  girls,"  he 
said.  "You  ought  to  know — you  should  have  known  all 
the  time  that  you  were  the  only  one  in  all  the  world 
for  me." 

"That's  a  trifle  obvious,  Warry;"  and  she  laughed. 
"You're  not  living  up  to  your  reputation  for  subtlety 
of  approach." 

"Evelyn" — his  voice  trembled;  he  was  sure  now  that 
he  was  very  much  in  love;  "I  tried  to  tell  you  before 
the  carnival  that  the  reason  I  didn't  want  you  to  appear 
in  the  ball  was  that  I  cared  a  great  deal, — so  very 
much, — that  I  love  you !" 

She  stepped  back,  drawing  the  cape  together  at  her 
throat. 

"Please,  Warry,"  she  said  pleadingly,  "don't  spoil 
everything  by  talking  of  such  things.  I  wished  that 
we  might  be  the  best  of  friends,  but  you  insist  on 
spoiling  everything." 

"Oh,  I  know,"  he  broke  in,  "that  I  spoil  things,  that 
I'm  a  failure — a  ne'er-do-well."  It  was  not  love  that 


AT  THE  COUNTBY  CLUB  185 

he  was  hungry  for  half  so  much  as  sympathy;  they 
are  often  identical  in  such  natures  as  his. 

She  bent  toward  him,  as  she  always  did  when  she 
talked  earnestly,,  and  as  frankly  as  though  she  were 
speaking  to  a  girl. 

"Warry  Raridan,  it's  exactly  as  I  told  you  a  moment 
ago.  You've  been  spoiled,  and  it  shows  in  a  lot  of 
ways.  Why,  you're  positively  childish !"  She  laughed 
softly.  He  had  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and 
was  feeling  foolish.  He  wanted  to  make  another  effort 
to  maintain  his  position  as  a  serious  lover,  but  was  not 
equal  to  it.  She  went  on,  with  growing  kindness  in  her 
tone :  "Now,  I'll  say  to  you  frankly  that  I  didn't  at  all 
like  being  mixed  up  in  the  Knights  of  Midas  ball;  if 
you  had  been  as  wise  as  I  have  always  thought,  you 
might  have  known  it.  You  ought  to  have  shown  your 
interest  in  me  by  helping  me;  but  you  chose  to  take 
a  very  ungenerous  and  unkind  attitude  about  it;  you 
helped  to  make  it  harder  for  me  than  it  might  have 
been.  I  relied  on  you  as  an  old  friend,  but  you  deserted 
me  at  your  first  chance  to  show  that  you  really  had  my 
interests  at  heart.  If  you  had  cared  about  me,  you 
certainly  wouldn't  have  acted  so." 

"Why,  Evelyn,  I  wouldn't  hurt  you  for  anything  in 
the  world;  if  I  had  understood — " 

"But  that's  the  trouble,"  she  interrupted,  still  very 
patiently.  She  saw  that  she  had  struck  the  right  chord 
in  appealing  to  his  chivalry,  and  in  conceding  as  much 
as  she  had  by  the  reference  to  their  old  comradeship. 
She  had  never  liked  him  better  than  she  did  now;  but 
she  certainly  did  not  love  him. 

She  had  directed  the  talk  safely  into  tranquil  chan- 


186  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

nels,  and  he  was  growing  happier,  and,,  if  he  had  known 
it,  relieved  besides.  He  wanted  to  be  nearer  to  her  than 
any  one  else,  and  he  was  touched  by  her  declaration  that 
she  had  needed  him,  and  that  he  had  failed  her. 

"But  sometime — you  will  not  forget — " 

"Oh,  sometime!  we  are  not  going  to  bother  about 
that  now.  Just  at  present  it's  getting  too  cool  for  the 
open  air  and  we  must  go  inside." 

"But  is  it  all  right?  You  will  pardon  my  offenses,, 
won't  you?  And  you  won't  let  any  one  else — " 

"Oh,  you  must  be  careful,  and  very  good,"  she  an 
swered  lightly,  and  gathered  up  her  skirts  in  her  hand. 
"We  must  go  in,  and,"  she  looked  down  at  him,  laugh 
ing,  "there  must  be  a  smile  on  the  face  of  the  tiger!" 

A  fire  of  pifion  logs,  brought  from  the  Colorado 
hills,  blazed  in  the  wide  fireplace  at  the  end  of  the  hall, 
and  Evelyn  and  Warry  joined  the  circle  which  had 
formed  about  it. 

"Has  the  moon  gone  down?" asked  Captain  Wheelock, 
as  a  place  was  made  for  them. 

"Not  necessarily,"  said  Earidan  coolly.  "Anybody  but 
you  would  know  that  the  moon  isn't  due  yet." 

"It  was  getting  cool  outside,"  said  Evelyn,  finding  a 
seat  in  the  ingle-nook. 

"Oh !"  exclaimed  the  captain  significantly,  and  look 
ing  hard  at  Earidan.  "Poor  Mr.  Earidan !  The  weather 
bureau  has  hardly  reported  a  single  frost  thus  far,  and 
yet — and  yet !"  The  others  laughed,  and  Evelyn  looked 
at  him  reproachfully. 

"You  might  try  the  weather  conditions  yourself," 
said  Earidan  easily,  wishing  to  draw  the  fire  to  him- 


AT  THE  COUNTRY  CLUB  187 

self.  "But  at  your  age  a  man  must  be  careful  of  the 
night  air/' 

He  and  Wheelock  abused  each  other  until  the  others 
begged  them  to  desist;  then  some  one  attacked  the 
piano  and  a  few  couples  began  to  dance.  Mabel  was 
anxious  to  stimulate  the  interest  of  the  young  man 
from  Keokuk,  who  had  not  thus  far  manifested  suffi 
cient  courage  to  lead  her  off  for  a  tete-a-tete.  He  had 
proved  a  little  slow.,  and  she  sought  to  treat  him 
cruelly  by  seeming  very  much  interested  in  Raridan, 
who  sat  down  to  talk  to  her.  Warry  was  certainly 
much  more  distinguished  than  any  other  young  man 
in  Clarkson, — a  conclusion  which  was,  in  her  mind, 
based  on  the  fact  that  Warry  lived  without  labor.  The 
pilgrim  from  Keokuk  was  the  vice-president  of  an  ele 
vator  company,  and  it  seemed  to  her  much  nobler  to 
live  on  the  income  of  property  that  had  been  acquired 
by  one's  ancestors  than  to  be  immediately  concerned 
in  earning  a  livelihood.  She  and  Warry  took  several 
turns  about  the  hall  to  the  waltz  which  Belle  Marshall 
was  playing,  and  when  the  music  ceased  suddenly  they 
were  in  a  far  corner  of  the  room.  The  chain  011 
which  her  heart-pendant  hung  caught  on  a  button  of 
Raridan' s  coat  as  they  stopped,  and  he  took  off  his 
glasses  to  find  and  loosen  the  tangle,  while  she  stood  in 
a  kind  of  triumphant  embarrassment,  knowing  that 
Evelyn  could  see  them  from  her  corner  by  the  fire. 
After  the  chain  had  been  freed  she  led  the  way  to  the 
window  seat  and  sat  down  with  a  great  show  of  fa 
tigue  from  her  dance. 

"A  girl  that  wears  her  heart  on  a  chain  is  likely  to! 
have  daws  pecking  at  it,  isn't  she?"  suggested  Raridan, 


188  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

wiping  his  glasses,  and  looking  at  her  with  the  vague 
ness  of  near-sighted  eyes.  This  was,  he  knew,  some 
what  flirtatious;  but  he  could  no  more  help  saying 
such  things  to  young  women  than  he  could  help  his 
good  looks.  The  fact  that  he  had  a  few  moments  be 
fore  been  making  love  to  another  girl,  with  what  he 
believed  at  the  time  to  be  real  ardor,  did  not  deter  him. 
Mabel  was  a  girl,  and  therefore  pretty  speeches  were  to 
be  made  to  her.  She  was  unmistakably  handsome, 
and  a  handsome  girl,  in  particular,  deserves  a  man's 
tribute  of  admiration.  Mabel  was  not,  however,  used 
to  Randan's  methods;  the  men  she  had  known  best 
did  not  paraphrase  Shakspere  to  her.  But  it  was  very- 
agreeable  to  be  sitting  thus  with  the  most  eligible  and 
brilliant  young  man  of  Clarkson.  Evelyn  Porter,  she 
could  see,  was  entertaining  the  young  man  from  Keokuk, 
and  the  situation  pleased  her. 

"Oh,  the  chain  is  strong  enough  to  hold  it,"  she 
answered,  running  the  slight  strands  through  her  fin 
gers,  and  looking  up  archly.  Her  black  eyes  were  fine; 
she  exercised  a  kind  of  witchery  with  them. 

"Lucky  chap — the  victim  inside,"  continued  Rari- 
clan,  indicating  the  heart. 

"Well,  that  depends  on  the  way  you  look  at  it." 

"I  hope  he  knows,"  continued  Warry.  "It  would  be 
a  shame  for  a  man  to  enjoy  that  kind  of  distinction  and 
not  know  it." 

Mabel  held  the  silver  heart  in  one  hand  and  stroked 
it  carefully  with  the  other.  Most  of  the  men  she  knew 
would  be  capable  of  taking  the  heart,  even  at  the  cost 
of  a  scuffle,  and  looking  into  it.  She  felt  safe  with 
Karidan.  The  young  romantic  actor  whose  picture  en- 


AT  THE  COUNTRY  CLUB  189 

joyed  the  distinction  of  a  place  in  the  trinket  did  not 
know,  of  course,  and  would  have  been  bored  if  he  had. 

"It  would  hardly  be  fair  to  carry  his  picture  around 
if  he  didn't  know  it,  would  it  ?"  asked  Mabel. 

"Of  course  not/'  said  Warry;  "I  didn't  imagine  that 
you  bought  it!" 

"It  wouldn't  be  nice  for  you  to/'  said  Mabel.  The 
fact  that  she  had  acquired  it  for  twenty-five  cents  at  a 
local  bookstore  did  not  trouble  her. 

The  music  had  begun  again,  but, they  continued  talk 
ing,  though  others  were  dancing.  Wheaton  had  joined 
Evelyn  in  the  ingle-nook;  and  Evelyn  was  aware,  with 
out  looking,  that  Mabel  was  making  the  most  of  her 
opportunity  with  Karidan;  and  she  knew,  too,  that  he 
was  not  averse  to  a-  bit  of  by-play  with  her.  She  knew 
that  if  she  really  cared  for  him  it  would  hurt  her  to 
see  him  thus  talking  to  another  girl,  but  she  was  con 
scious  of  no  pang.  Her  heart  burned  with  anger  for  a 
moment  at  the  thought  that  he  must  think  her  conquest 
assured ;  but  this  was,  she  remembered,  "Warry's  way/' 
falling  back  on  a  phrase  that  was  often  spoken  of  him. 
She  was  a  little  tired,  and  experienced  a  feeling  of  relief 
in  sitting  here  with  Wheaton  and  listening  to  his  com 
monplace  talk,  which  could  be  followed  without  effort. 

Wheaton  was  finding  himself  much  at  ease  at  Mabel's 
party,  though  he  questioned  its  propriety;  he  had  a 
great  respect  for  conventions.  He  was  well  aware  that 
there  were  differences  between  Evelyn  Porter  and  her 
friends,  and  Miss  Margrave  and  those  whom  he  knew  to 
be  her  intimates.  Miss  Porter  was  much  finer  in  her 
instincts  and  her  intelligence ;  he  would  have  been  puz 
zled  for  am  explanation  of  the  points  of  variance,  but 


190  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

he  knew  that  they  existed.  The  young  man  from 
Keokuk  had  moved  away  and  left  him  with  Evelyn, 
and  it  was  certainly  very  pleasant  to  be  sitting  in  a 
quiet  corner  with  a  girl  whom  everybody  admired,  and 
who  was,  he  felt  sure,  easily  the  most  distinguished  girl 
in  town.  He  had  arrived  late,  to  be  sure,  in  the  first 
social  circle  of  Clarkson,  but  he  had  found  the  gate 
open,  and  he  was  suffered  to  enter  and  make  himself 
at  home  just  as  thoroughly  as  any  other  man  might — 
as  completely  so,  for  instance,  as  Warrick  Raridan, 
who  had  wealth  and  the  prestige  of  an  old  family  be 
hind  him. 

"I'm  sure  we  shall  all  get  much  pleasure  out  of  the 
Country  Club/'  said  Evelyn,  who  sat  on  the  low  bench 
between  him  and  the  fire. 

"Yes,  and  the  house  is  pretty  good,  considering  the 
small  amount  of  money  that  was  put  into  it." 

"Another  case  where  good  taste  is  better  than 
money.  We  Americans  have  been  so  slow  about  such 
things;  but  now  there  seems  to  be  widespread  interest 
in  outdoor  life."  Wheaton  knew  only  vaguely  that 
there  was,  but  he  was  learning  that  it  was  not  necessary 
to  know  much  about  things  to  be  able  to  talk  of  them ; 
so  he  acquiesced,  and  they  fell  to  discussing  golf,  or 
at  least  Evelyn  did,  with  the  zeal  of  the  fresh  convert. 

"I  think  I'll  have  to  take  it  up.  You  make  it  sound 
very  attractive." 

"The  Scotch  owed  us  something  good,"  said  Evelyn ; 
"they  gave  us  oatmeal  for  breakfast,  and  made  life  un 
endurable  to  that  extent.  But  we  can  forgive  them 
if  they  take  us  out  of  doors  and  get  us  away  from 
offices  and  houses.  Our  western  business  men  are  in- 


AT  THE  COUNTRY  CLUB  191 

corrigible,,  though.  The  farther  west  you  go,  the  more 
hours  a  day  men  put  into  business/' 

Evelyn  soon  sent  Wheaton  to  bring  Mrs.  Whipple  and 
Annie  Warren,  who  were  stranded  in  a  corner,  and  they 
became  spectators  of  the  pranks  of  some  of  the  others, 
who  had  now  gathered  about  the  piano,  where  Captain 
Wheelock  had  undertaken  to  lead  in  the  singing  of 
popular  airs.  The  singers  were  not  taking  their  efforts 
very  seriously.  All  knew  some  of  the  words  of  "Annie 
Carroll,"  but  none  knew  all,  so  that  their  efforts  were 
marked  by  scattering  good-will  rather  than  by  una 
nimity  of  knowledge.  When  one  lost  the  words  and 
broke  down,  they  all  laughed  in  derision.  Mabel  and 
Raridan  had  joined  the  circle,  and  Warry  entered  into 
the  tentative  singing  with  the  spirit  he  always  brought 
to  any  occasion.  Mabel,  who  imported  all  the  new 
songs  from  New  York,  gave  "Don't  Throw  Snowballs  at 
the  Soda-water  Man"  as  a  solo,  and  did  it  well — almost 
too  well.  Occasionally  one  of  the  group  at  the  piano 
turned  to  demand  that  those  who  lingered  by  the  fire 
side  join  in  the  singing,  but  Wheaton  was  shy  of  this 
hilarity,  and  was  comfortable  in  his  belief  that  Evelyn 
was  showing  a  preference  for  him  in  electing  to  remain 
aloof.  He  did  not  understand  that  her  evident  prefer 
ence  was  due  to  a  feeling  that  he  was  older  than  the 
rest  and  too  stiff  and  formal  for  their  frivolity. 

Mrs.  Whipple  made  little  effort  to  talk  to  Wheaton, 
though  she  occasionally  threw  out  some  comment  on  the 
singers  to  Evelyn.  Wheaton  did  not  amuse  Mrs. 
Whipple.  He  had  only  lately  dawned  on  her  horizon, 
and  she  had  already  appraised  him  and  filed  her 
impression  away  in  her  memory.  He  was  not,  she 


192  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

had  determined,  a  complex  character;  she  knew,  as 
perfectly  as  if  he  had  made  a  full  confession  of  him 
self  to  her,  his  new  ambitions,  his  increasing  conceit 
and  belief  in  himself.  She  had  been  more  successful 
in  preventing  marriages  than  in  effecting  them,  and 
she  sat  watching  him  with  a  quizzical  expression  in  her 
eyes;  for  there  might  be  danger  in  him  for  this  girl, 
though  it  had  not  appeared.  But  when  her  eyes  rested 
on  Evelyn  she  seemed  to  find  an  answer  that  allayed 
her  fears;  Evelyn  was  hardly  a  girl  that  would  need 
guardianship.  As  the  noise  from  the  group  at  the 
piano  rose  to  the  crescendo-  at  which  it  broke  into 
laughing  discord,  Evelyn  met  suddenly  the  gaze  with 
which  this  old  friend  had  been  regarding  her,  and  gave 
back  a  nod  and  smile  that  were  in  themselves  un 
consciously  reassuring. 

Some  one  suggested  presently  that  if  they  were  to 
drive  home  in  the  moonlight  they  should  be  going;  and 
the  coach  soon  swung  away  from  the  door  into  the 
moon's  floodtide.  The  wind  was  still,  as  if  in  awe  of 
the  lighted  world.  The  town  lay  far  below  in  a  white 
pool.  Mabel  again  took  the  reins,  and  as  the  coach 
rumbled  and  crunched  over  the  road,  light  hearts  had 
recourse  to  song;  but  even  the  singing  was  subdued, 
and  the  trumpeter's  note  failed  miserably  when  the 
-horses'  hoofs  struck  smartly  on  the  streets  of  the  town. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    LADY   AND   THE   BUNKER 

The  afternoon  invited  the  eyes  to  far,  blue  horizons, 
and  as  Evelyn  stood  up  and  shook  loosely  in  her  hand 
the  sand  she  had  taken  from  the  box,  she  contem 
plated  the  hazy  distances  with  satisfaction  before  bend 
ing  to  make  her  tee.  Her  visitors  had  left;  Grant 
had  gone  east  to  school,  and  she  was  driven  in  upon 
herself  for  amusement.  Her  movements  were  lithe  and 
swift,  and  when  once  the  ball  had  been  placed  in  posi 
tion  there  were  only  two  points  of  interest  for  her  in 
the  landscape — the  ball  itself  and  the  first  green.  The 
driver  was  a  part  of  herself,  and  she  stepped  back  and 
swung  it  to  freshen  her  memory  of  its  characteristics. 
The  caddy  watched  her  in  silent  joy;  these  were  not 
the  fussy  preliminaries  that  he  had  been  used  to  in 
young  ladies  who  played  on  the  Country  Club  links;  he 
kept  one  eye  on  the  player  and  backed  off  down  the 
course.  The  sleeves  of  her  crimson  flannel  shirt-waist 
were  turned  up  at  the  wrists;  the  loose  end  of  her 
cravat  fluttered  in  the  soft  wind,  that  was  like  a  breath 
of  mid-May.  She  addressed  the  ball,  standing  but 
slightly  bent  above  it  and  glancing  swiftly  from  tee  to 
target,  then  swung  with  the  certainty  and  ease  of  the 
natural  golf  player.  Her  first  ball  was  a  slice,  but  it 

193 


194  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

fell  seventy-five  yards  down  the  course;  she  altered  her 
position  slightly  and  tried  again,  but  she  did  not  hit  the 
ball  squarely,  and  it  went  bounding  over  the  grass. 
At  the  third  attempt  her  ball  was  caught  fairly  and 
sped  straight  down  the  course  at  a  level  not  higher  than 
her  head.  The  caddy  trotted  to  where  it  lay;  it  was 
on  a  line  with  the  one  hundred  and  fifty  yard  mark. 
The  player  motioned  him  to  get  the  other  balls.  She 
had  begun  her  game. 

The  fever  was  as  yet  in  its  incipient  stage  in  Clark- 
son;  players  were  few;  the  greens  were  poorly  kept, 
and  there  were  bramble  patches  along  the  course  which 
were  of  material  benefit  to  the  golf  ball  makers.  But 
it  was  better  than  nothing,  John  Saxton  said  to  himself 
this  bright  October  afternoon,  as  he  stood  at  the  first 
tee,  listening  to  the  cheerful  discourse  of  his  caddy,  who 
lingered  to  study  the  equipment  of  a  visitor  whom  he 
had  not  served  before. 

"Anybody  out?"  asked  John,  trying  the  weight  of 
several  drivers. 

"Lady,"  said  the  boy  succinctly.  He  pointed  across 
the  links  to  where  Evelyn  was  distinguishable  as  she 
doubled  back  on  the  course. 

"Good  player?" 

"Great — for  a  girl/'  the  boy  declared.  "She's  the  best 
lady  player  here." 

"Maybe  we  can  pick  up  some  points  from  her  game," 
said  Saxton,  smiling  at  the  boy's  enthusiasm.  He  had 
been  very  busy  and  much  away  from  town,  and  this 
was  his  first  day  of  golf  since  he  had  come  to  Clarkson. 
Earidan  had  declined  to  accompany  him ;  Raridan  was, 
in  fact,  at  work  just  now,  having  been  for  a  month 


THE  LADY  AND  THE  BUNKER    195 

constant  in  attendance  upon  his  office ;  and  Saxton  had 
left  him  barricaded  behind  a  pile  of  law  books.  Saxton 
was  slow  in  his  golf,  as  in  all  things,  and  he  gave  a  good 
deal  of  study  to  his  form.  He  played  steadily  down 
the  course,  noting  from  time  to  time  the  girl  that  was 
the  only  other  occupant  of  the  links.  She  was  playing 
toward  him  on  the  parallel  course  home,  and  while 
he  had  not  recognized  her,  he  could  see  that  she  was  a 
player  of  skill,  and  he  paused  several  times  to  watch 
the  freedom  of  her  swing  and  to  admire  the  pretty  pic 
ture  she  made  as  she  followed  her  ball  rapidly  and  with 
evident  absorption. 

He  was  taking  careful  measurement  for  a  difficult 
approach  shot  from  the  highest  grass  on  the  course, 
when  he  heard  men  calling  and  shouting  in  the  road 
which  ran  by  one  of  the  boundary  fences  of  the  club 
property.  A  drove  of  cattle  was  coming  along  the  road, 
driven,  as  Saxton  saw,  by  several  men  on  horseback.  It 
was  a  small  bunch  bound  for  the  city.  Several  obstrep 
erous  steers  showed  an  inclination  to  bolt  at  the  cross 
roads,  but  the  horsemen  brought  them  back  with  much 
yelling  and  a  great  shuffling  of  hoofs  which  sent  a  cloud 
of  dust  into  the  quiet  air.  Saxton  bent  again  with  his 
lofter,  when  his  caddy  gave  a  cry. 

"Hi !    He's  making  for  the  gate !" 

One  of  the  steers  had  bolted  and  plunged  down  the 
side  road  toward  the  gate  of  the  club  grounds,  which 
stood  open  through  the  daytime. 

"You'd  better  trot  over  there  and  close  the  gate," 
said  Saxton,  seeing  that  the  cattle  were  excited. 

The  boy  ran  for  the  gate,  which  lay  not  more  than  a 
hundred  yards  distant,  and  the  steer  which  had  broken 


196  THE   MAIN   CHANCE 

away  and  been  reclaimed  with  so  much  difficulty  in  the 
roadway  bolted  for  it  at  almost  the  same  moment. 
Saxton,  seeing  that  a  collision  was  imminent,  began 
trotting  toward  the  gate  himself.  The  steer  could  not 
see  the  boy  who  was  racing  for  the  gate  from  the  inside, 
and  boy  and  beast  plunged  on  toward  it. 

"Kun  for  the  fence,"  called  Saxton. 

The  boy  gained  the  fence  and  clambered  to  the  top  of 
it.  The  steer  reached  the  gate,  and,  seeing  open  fields 
beyond,  bounded  in  and  made  across  the  golf  course  at 
full  speed.  He  dashed  past  Saxton,  who  stopped  and 
watched  him,  his  club  still  in  his  hand.  The  steer 
seemed  pleased  to  have  gained  access  to  an  ampler  area, 
and  loped  leisurely  across  the  links.  Evelyn,  maneuver 
ing  to  escape  a  bunker  that  lay  formidably  before  her, 
had  not  yet  seen  the  animal  and  was  not  aware  of  the 
invasion  of  the  course  until  her  caddy,  who,  expecting 
one  of  her  long  plays,  had  posted  himself  far  ahead,  came 
plunging  over  the  bunker's  ridge  with  a  clatter  of  bag 
and  clubs.  The  steer,  following  him  with  an  amiable 
show  of  interest,  paused  at  the  bunker  and  viewed  the 
boy  and  the  young  woman  in  the  red  shirt  waist  uneasily. 
One  of  the  drovers  was  in  hot  pursuit,  galloping  across 
the  course  toward  the  runaway  member  of  his  herd, 
lariat  in  hand.  Hearing  an  enemy  in  the  rear,  the  steer 
broke  over  the  lightly  packed  barricade,  and  Evelyn's 
red  shirt-waist  proving  the  most  brilliant  object  on  the 
horizon,  he  made  toward  it  at  a  lively  pace. 

The  caddy  was  now  in  full  flight,  pulling  the  strap  of 
Evelyn's  bag  over  his  head  and  scattering  the  clubs  as 
he  fled.  A  moment  later  he  had  joined  Saxton's  caddy 
on  top  of  the  fence  and  the  two  boys  viewed  current 


THE  LADY  AND  THE  BUNKER    197 

history  from  that  point  with  absorption.  Meanwhile 
Evelyn  was  making  no  valiant  stand.  She  gave  a  gasp 
of  dismay  and  turned  and  ran,,  for  the  drover  was  push 
ing  the  steer  rapidly  now,  and  was  getting  ready  to  cast 
his  lariat.  He  made  a  botch  of  it,  however,  and  at  the 
instant  of  the  rope's  flight,  his  pony,  poorly  trained  to 
the  business,  bucked  and  tried  to  unseat  his  rider;  and 
the  drover  swore  volubly  as  he  tried  to  control  him. 
The  pony  backed  upon  a  putting  green  and  bucked 
again,  this  time  dislodging  his  rider.  Before  the  dazed 
drover  could  recover,  Saxton,  who  had  run  up  behind 
him,  sprang  to  the  pony's  head,  and  as  the  animal  settled 
on  all  fours  again,  leaped  into  the  saddle  and  gathered 
up  bridle  and  lariat.  The  pony  suddenly  grew  tired  of 
making  trouble,  in  the  whimsical  way  of  his  kind,  and 
Saxton  impelled  him  at  a  rapid  lope  toward  the  steer. 
John  was  bareheaded  and  the  sleeves  of  his  outing  shirt 
were  rolled  to  the  elbows;  he  looked  more  like  a  polo 
player  than  a  cowboy. 

Meanwhile  Evelyn  was  running  toward  a  bunker 
which  stood  across  her  path;  it  was  the  only  break  in 
the  level  of  the  course  that  offered  any  hope  of  refuge. 
She  could  hear  the  pounding  of  the  steer's  hoofs,  and 
less  distinctly  the  pattering  hoofbeat  of  the  pony.  She 
had  had  a  long  run  and  was  breathing  hard.  The 
bunker  seemed  the  remotest  thing  in  the  world  as  she 
ran  down  the  course;  then  suddenly  it  rose  a  mile  high, 
and  as  she  scaled  its  rough  slope  and  sank  breathlessly 
into  the  sand,  Saxton  cast  the  lariat.  With  mathemati 
cal  nicety  the  looped  rope  cut  the  air  and  the  noose  fell 
about  the  broad  horns  of  the  Texan  as  his  fore  feet 
struck  the  bunker.  The  pony  stood  with  firmly  planted 


198  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

hoofs.,  supporting  the  taut  rope  as  steadfastly  as  a  rock. 
The  owner  of  the  pony  came  panting  up,  and  another  of 
the  drovers  who  had  ridden  into  the  arena  joined  them. 

"Here's  your  cow/'  said  Saxton.  The  steer  "was,  in 
deed,  any  one's  for  the  taking,  as  he  was  winded  and 
the  spirit  had  gone  out  of  him.  "You  won't  need  an 
other  rope  on  him;  he'll  follow  the  pony." 

"You  threw  that  rope  all  right/'  said  the  dismounted 
drover. 

"An  old  woman  taught  me  with  a  clothes  line,"  said 
John,  kicking  his  feet  out  of  the  stirrups;  "take  your 
pony." 

"Where's  that  girl?"  asked  one  of  the  men. 

"I  guess  she's  all  right,"  answered  Saxton,  walking 
toward  the  bunker.  "You'd  better  get  your  cow  out 
of  here;  this  isn't  free  range,  you  know." 

He  mounted  the  bunker  with  a  jump  and  looked 
anxiously  down  into  the  sand-pit. 

"Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Saxton.  You  see  I'm  bun 
kered.  Is  it  safe  to  come  out?" 

"Is  it  you,  Miss  Porter  ?"  said  Saxton,  jumping  down 
into  the  sand.  "Are  you  hurt  ?" 

"No;  but  I'll  not  say  that  I'm  not  scared."  She 
was  still  panting  from  her  long  run,  and  her  cheeks 
were  scarlet.  She  put  up  her  hands  to  her  hair,  which 
had  tumbled  loose.  "This  is  really  the  wild  West,  after 
all;  and  that  was  a  very  pretty  throw  you  made." 

"It  seemed  necessary  to  do  something.  But  you 
couldn't  have  seen  it  ?" 

"Another  case  of  woman's  curiosity.  Perhaps  I  ought 
to  turn  into  a  pillar  of  salt.  I  peeped !  I  suppose  it  was 
in  the  hope  that  I  might  play  hide  and  seek  with  that 


THE  LADY  AND  THE  BUNKEK    199 

wild  beast  as  he  came  over  after  me,  but  you  stopped 
his  flight  just  in  time."  She  had  restored  her  hair  as 
she  talked.  "Where  is  that  caddy  of  mine?" 

"Oh,  the  boys  took  to  the  fence  to  get  a  better  view 
of  the  show.  They're  coming  up  now." 

Evelyn  stood  up  quickly,  and  shook  her  skirt  free  of 
sand. 

"I  need  hardly  say  that  I'm  greatly  obliged  to  you/' 
she  said,  giving  him  her  hand. 

Saxton  was  relieved  to  find  that  she  took  the  incident 
so  coolly. 

She  was  laughing;  her  color  was  very  becoming,  and 
John  beamed  upon  her.  His  face  was  of  that  blond 
type  which  radiates  light  and  flushes  into  a  kind  of 
sunburn  with  excitement.  There  was  something  very 
boyish  about  John  Saxton.  The  curves  of  his  face  were 
still  those  of  youth;  he  had  never  dared  to  encourage 
a  mustache  or  beard,  owing  to  a  disinclination  to  pro 
duce  more  than  was  necessary  of  the  soft,  silky  hair 
which  covered  his  head  abundantly.  He  had  a  straight 
nose,  a  firm  chin  and  a  brave  showing  of  square,  white 
teeth.  His  mouth  was  his  best  feature,  for  it  expressed 
his  good  nature  and  a  wish  to  be  pleased, — a  wish  that 
shone  also  in  his  blue  eyes.  John  Saxton  was  deter 
mined  to  like  life  and  people ;  and  he  liked  both  just 
now. 

"Are  you  entirely  sound?  Won't  you  have  witch- 
hazel,  arnica,  brandy?" 

"Oh,  thanks;  nothing.  I've  got  my  breath  again 
and  am  all  right." 

"But  they  always  sprain  their  ankles." 


200  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"Yes,  but  Fm  not  a  romantic  young  person.  I'll  be 
sorry  if  that  caddy  has  lost  my  best  driver." 

"He's  out  on  the  battlefield  now  looking  for  it/' 
said  John.,  indicating  their  two  caddies,  who  were  gath 
ering  up  the  lost  implements. 

"I  think  you're  away/'  John  added,  musingly. 

"Yes;    for  the  club  house." 

"That's  poor  golf,  to  give  up  just  because  you're 
bunkered.  And  yet  my  caddy  said  you  were  the 
greatest." 

They  walked  over  the  course  toward  the  club  house, 
discussing  their  encounter. 

"What  hole  were  you  playing  when  the  meek-eyed 
kine  invaded  the  field?" 

"Oh,  I  was  doing  very  badly.  I  was  only  at  the 
fourth,  and  breaking  all  my  records,"  said  John.  "I 
was  glad  of  a  diversion.  The  gentle  footprints  of  that 
steer  didn't  improve  the  quality  of  this  course,"  he 
added,  looking  about.  The  ground  was  soft  from  re 
cent  rains,  and  the  hoofs  of  the  animal  had  dug  into 
it  and  marred  the  turf. 

"It's  a  rule  of  the  club,"  said  Evelyn,  "that  players 
must  replace  their  own  divots.  That  can  hardly  be  en 
forced  against  that  ferocious  beast." 

"Hardly ;  but  he  was  easily  master  of  the  game  while 
he  remained  with  us."  The  caddies  had  recovered  the 
scattered  equipment  of  the  players,  and  were  following, 
discussing  the  incidents  of  the  busiest  quarter  of  an  hour 
they  had  known  in  their  golfing  experience. 

Evelyn  turned  suddenly  upon  John. 

"Did  I  look  very  foolish  ?"  she  demanded. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 


THE  LADY  AND  THE  BUNKEK         201 

"Yes,  you  do,  Mr.  Saxton.  A  woman  always  looks 
ridiculous  when  she  runs."  She  laughed.  "I'm  sure 
I  must  have  looked  so.  But  you  couldn't  have  seen 
me;  you  were  pretty  busy  yourself  just  then/' 

"Well,  of  course,  if  I'm  asked  about  it,  I'll  have  to 
tell  of  your  sprinting  powers;  I'm  not  sure  that  you 
didn't  lower  a  record." 

"Oh,  you're  the  hero  of  the  occasion !  I  cut  a  sorry 
figure  in  it.  I  suppose,  though,  that  as  the  maiden  in 
distress  I'll  get  a  little  glory — just  a  little." 

"And  your  picture  in  the  Sunday  papers." 

"Horrors,  no!  But  you  will  appear  on  your  fiery 
steed  swinging  the  lasso." 

He  threw  up  his  hands. 

"That  would  never  do !  It  would  ruin  my  social 
reputation." 

"In  Boston?" 

"No;  down  there  they'd  like  it.  It  would  be  proof 
positive  of  the  woolliness  of  the  West,  Golf  playing  in 
terrupted  by  a  herd  of  wild  cattle — cowboys,  lassoes — 
Buffalo  Bill  effects.  Down  East  they're  always  look 
ing  for  Western  atmosphere." 

"You  don't  dislike  the  West  very  much,  do  you?" 
asked  Evelyn.  "We  aren't  so  bad,  do  you  think?" 

"Dislike  it?"  John  looked  at  her.  He  had  never 
liked  anything  so  much  as  this  place  and  hour.  "I 
altogether  love  it,"  he  declared;  and  then  he  was  con 
scious  of  having  used  a  verb  not  usual  in  his  vocabu 
lary. 

"And  so  you  learned  how  to  do  all  the  cowboy  tricks 
up  in  Wyoming?"  Evelyn  went  on.  "I  wish  Annie 


202  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

Warren  had  seen  that !"  and  she  laughed ;  it  seemed  to 
John  that  she  was  always  laughing. 

"I  wasn't  very  much  of  a  cowboy/'  John  said.  "That 
is,  I  wasn't  very  good  at  it."  He  was  an  honest  soul 
and  did  not  want  Evelyn  Porter  to  think  that  he  was 
posing  as  a  dramatic  and  cocksure  character.  "Hoping 
a  cow  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  business,  and  then  a 
tame,  foolish,  domestic  co-bos  like  that  one!" 

"Co-bos!  If  this  is  likely  to  happen  again  they 
ought  to  provide  a  box  of  salt  at  every  tee." 

When  Evelyn  had  gone  into  the  club  house,  John 
gathered  the  caddies  into  a  corner  and  bestowed  a 
dollar  on  each  of  them  and  promised  them  other  bounty 
if  they  maintained  silence  touching  the  events  of  the 
afternoon  in  which  he  had  participated.  They  and  the 
drovers  were  the  only  witnesses  besides  the  more  active 
participants,  and  he  would  have  to  take  chances  with 
the  drovers.  Then,  having  bribed  the  boys,  he  also 
threatened  them.  He  was  walking  across  the  veranda 
when  he  met  Evelyn,  whose  horse  he  had  already  called 
for. 

"If  you're  not  driving,  I'd  be  glad  to  have  you  share 
my  cart." 

"Thanks,  very  much,"  said  John.  "The  street  car 
would  be  rather  a  heavy  slump  after  this  afternoon's 
gaiety." 

"I  spoiled  your  game  and  endangered  your  social 
reputation;  I  can  hardly  do  less." 

John  thought  that  she  could  hardly  do  more.  He 
had  known  men  whom  girls  drove  in  their  traps,  but  he 
had  never  expected  to  be  enrolled  in  their  class.  It  was 


THE  LADY  AND  THE  BUNKER         203 

pleasant,  just  once,  not  to  be  walking  in  the  highway 
and  taking  the  dust  of  other  people's  wheels — pleasant 
to  find  himself  tolerated  by  a  pretty  girl.  She  was 
prettier  than  any  he  had  ever  seen  at  class  day,  or  in 
the  grand  stands  at  football  games,  or  on  the  observa 
tion  trains  at  New  London,  when  he  had  gone  alone, 
or  with  a  sober  college  classmate,  to  see  the  boat  races. 
Deep  currents  of  happiness  coursed  through  him 
which  were  not  all  because  of  the  October  sunlight  and 
the  laughing  talk  of  Evelyn  Porter.  He  had  that  sen 
sation  of  pleasure,  always  a  joy  to  a  man  of  conscience, 
which,  is  his  self-approval  for  labor  well  performed. 
He  had  worked  faithfully  ever  since  he  had  come  to 
Clarkson;  he  had  traveled  much,  visiting  the  proper 
ties  which  the  Neponset  Trust  Company  had  confided 
to  his  care;  and  he  had  already  so  adjusted  them  that 
they  earned  enough  to  pay  taxes  and  expenses.  He 
had  effected  a  few  sales,  at  prices  which  the  Neponset's 
clients  were  glad  to  accept.  He  had  never  been  so 
happy  in  his  work.  He  had  rather  grudgingly  taken 
this  afternoon  off;  but  here  he  was,  laughing  with 
Evelyn  Porter  over  #n  amusing  adventure  that  had 
befallen  them,  and  which,  as  they  talked  of  it  and  kept 
referring  to  it,  seemed  to  establish  between  them  a  real 
comradeship.  He  wondered  what  Randan  would  say, 
and  he  resolved  that  he  would  not  tell  him  of  the  hasty 
termination  of  his  golfing;  probably  Miss  Porter  would 
prefer  not  to  have  the  incident  mentioned.  He  even 
thought  that  he  would  not  tell  Raridan  that  she  had 
driven  him  to  town.  It  was  not  for  him  to  interpose 
between  Warry  Karidan,  a  man  who  had  brought  him 


204  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

the  sweetest  friendship  he  had  ever  known,,  and  the  girl 
whom  fate  had  clearly  appointed  Warry  to  marry. 

As  they  turned  into  the  main  highway  leading  town- 
ward,  a  trap  came  rapidly  toward  them. 

"Miss  Margrave's  trap/'  said  Evelyn,  as  they  espied  it. 

The  figures  were  not  yet  distinguishable,  though 
Mabel's  belongings  were  always  unmistakable. 

"Then  that  must  be  one  of  The  Men'  ?" 

John  was  angry  at  himself  the  moment  he  had  spoken, 
for  as  the  trap  came  nearer  there  was  no  doubt  of  the 
identity  of  Mabel's  companion.  It  was  Warry.  Evelyn 
bowed  and  smiled  as  they  passed.  Mabel  gave  the  quick 
nod  that  she  was  introducing  in  Clarkson;  Saxton 
and  Earidan  lifted  their  hats. 

"Miss  Margrave  has  a  lot  of  style;  don't  you  think 
so,  Mr.  Saxton?" 

"Apparently,  yes ;  but  I  don't  know  her,  you  know ;" 
and  he  wondered. 

Warry  Karidan's  days  were  not  all  lucky.  He  had 
been  keeping  his  office  with  great  fidelity  of  late.  He  had 
even  found  a  client  or  two;  and  he  had  determined  to 
rebuke  his  critics  by  giving  proof  of  his  possession  of 
those  staying  qualities  which  they  were  always  deny 
ing  him.  He  had  been  hard  at  work  in  his  office  this 
afternoon,  when  a  note  came  to  him  from  Mabel,  who 
begged  that  he  would  drive  with  her  to  the  Country 
Club.  He  had  already  thought  of  telephoning  to  Evelyn 
to  ask  her  if  she  would  not  go  with  him,  but  had 
dropped  the  idea  when  he  remembered  his  new  reso 
lutions;  it  was  for  Evelyn  that  he  was  at  work  now. 
But  Mabel  was  a  friendly  soul,  and  perfectly  harmless. 


THE  LADY  AND  THE  BUNKER         205 

It  certainly  looked  very  pleasant  outside ;  the  next  cita 
tion  in  the  authorities  he  was  consulting, — Sweetbriar 
vs.  O'Neill,  84  N.  Y.,  26,— would  lead  him  over  to  the 
law  library,  which  was  a  gloomy  hole  with  wretched 
ventilation.  So  he  had  given  himself  a  vacation,  with 
the  best  grace  and  excuse  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WARRY'S  REPENTANCE 

Saxton  dined  alone  at  the  Clarkson  Club,  as  he  usu 
ally  did,  and  went  afterward  to  his  office,  which  he 
still  maintained  in  the  Clarkson  National  Building.  He 
had  been  studying  the  report  of  an  engineering  expert 
on  a  Colorado  irrigation  scheme  and  he  was  trying  to 
master  and  correct  its  weaknesses.  As  he  hung  over 
the  blue-prints  and  the  pages  of  figures  that  lay  before 
him,  the  flashing  red  wheels  of  Mabel  Margrave's  trap 
kept  interfering;  he  wished  Warry  had  not  turned  up 
just  as  he  had.  He  thought  he  understood  why  his  friend 
had  been  so  occupied  in  his  office  of  late;  but  whether 
Warry  and  Evelyn  Porter  were  engaged  or  not,  Warry 
ought  to  find  better  use  for  his  talents  than  in  amusing 
Mabel  Margrave.  John  lighted  his  pipe  to  help  with 
the  blue-prints,  and  while  he  drew  it  into  cozy  accord 
with  himself,  the  elevator  outside  discharged  a  pas 
senger;  he  heard  the  click  of  the  wire  door  as  the  cage 
receded,  followed  by  Raridan's  quick  step  in  the  hall, 
and  Warry  broke  in  on  him. 

"Well,  you're  the  limit !  I'd  like  to  know  what  you 
mean  by  roosting  up  here  and  not  staying  in  your  room 
where  a  white  man  can  find  you."  He  stood  with  his 
hands  thrust  into  the  pockets  of  his  top-coat,  and 

206 


WARRY'S  REPENTANCE  207 

glared  at  Saxton,  who  lay  back  in  his  chair  and  bit  his 
pipe.  "I  wish  by  all  the  gods  I  could  rattle  you  once 
and  shake  you  out  of  your  damned  Harvard  aplomb !" 
Raridan  did  not  usually  invoke  the  gods,  and  he  rarely 
damned  anything  or  anybody. 

"That's  a  very  pretty  coat  you  have  on,  Mr.  Raridan. 
It  must  be  nice  to  be  a  plutocrat  and  wear  clothes  like 
that." 

"The  beastly  thing  doesn't  fit,"  growled  Raridan, 
throwing  himself  into  a  chair.  "I  don't  fit,  and  my 
clothes  don't  fit,  and— 

"And  you're  having  a  fit.  You'd  better  see  a  nerve 
specialist."  Warry  was  pounding  a  cigarette  on  the  back 
of  his  case. 

"I  say,  Saxton,"  he  said  calmly. 

"Well !  Has  Vesuvius  subsided  ?"  Saxton  sat  up  in 
his  chair  and  watched  Raridan  breaking  matches  waste- 
fully  in  a  nervous  effort  to  strike  a  light. 

"John  Saxton,  what  a  beastly  ass  I  am!  What  a 
merry-go-round  of  a  fool  I  make  of  myself!"  Warry 
blew  a  cloud  of  smoke  into  the  air. 

"Yes,"  said  John,  pulling  away  at  his  pipe. 

"As  I'm  a  living  man,  I  had  no  more  intention  of 
driving  with  that  girl  than  I  had  of  going  up  in  a  bal 
loon  and  walking  back.  You  know  I  never  knew  her 
well;  I  don't  want  to  know  her,  for  that  matter;  not 
on  your  life!" 

"Is  this  a  guessing  contest  ?  I  suppose  I'm  the  goat. 
Well,  you  didn't  care  for  Miss  Margrave's  society;  is 
that  what  you're  driving  at  ?  She  shan't  hear  this  from 
me;  I'm  as  safe  as  a  tomb.  Moreover,  I  don't  enjoy 
her  acquaintance.  Go  ahead  now,  full  speed." 


208  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"And  it  was  just  my  infernal  hard  luck  that  I  got 
caught  this  afternoon,"  continued  Warry,  ignoring  him. 
"Sometimes  it  seems  to  me  that  I'm  predestined  and 
foreordained  to  do  fool  things.  I've  been  working  like 
blue  blazes  on  that  washerwoman's  suit  against  the 
Transcontinental, — running  their  switch  through  her 
back  yard, — and  I  had  put  away  all  kinds  of  tempta 
tion  and  was  feeling  particularly  virtuous;  but  here 
came  the  Margrave  nigger  with  that  girl's  note,  and  I 
went  up  the  street  in  long  jumps  to  meet  her,  and  let 
her  drive  me  all  over  town  and  all  over  the  country, 
and  order  me  a  highball  on  the  Country  Club  porch,  and 
generally  make  an  ass  of  me.  I  wish  you'd  do  some 
thing  to  me ;  hit  me  with  a  club,  or  throw  me  down  the 
elevator,  or  do  something  equally  brutal  and  coarse 
that  would  jar  a  little  of  the  folly  out  of  me.  Wiry," 
he  continued,  with  utter  self-contempt,  through  which 
his  humor  glimmered,  "I  ought  to  have  turned  down 
Mabel's  invitation  as  soon  as  I  saw  the  monogram  on 
her  note  paper.  Three  colors,  and  letters  as  big  as 
your  hand !  My  instinctive  good  taste  falters,  old 
man;  it  needs  restoring  and  chastening." 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,  sir.  But  it's  more  gallant 
to  abuse  yourself  than  Miss  Margrave's  stationery — 
that  is,  if  I  am  correctly  gathering  up  the  crumbs  of 
your  thought.  I  believe  you  had  reached  the  highball 
incident  in  your  recital.  Was  it  rye  or  Scotch  ?  This 
is  the  day  of  realism,  and  if  I'm  to  give  you  counsel,  or 
sympathy,  or  whatever  it  is  you  want,  I  must  know  all 
the  petty  details." 

"Don't  be  foolish,"  said  Earidan,  staring  abstract 
edly;  then  he  bent  his  eyes  sharply  on  Saxton. 


,W AERY'S  REPENTANCE  209 

"See  here,  John/'  he  said  quietly,  folding  his  arms. 
He  had  never  before  called  Saxton  by  his  first  name; 
and  the  change  marked  a  further  advance  of  intimacy. 

"Yes." 

"You  know  I'm  a  good  deal  of  a  fool  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing — " 

"Chuck  that  and  go  ahead." 

"But  she  means  a  whole  lot  to  me.  You  know  whom 
I  mean."  Saxton  knew  he  did  not  mean  Mabel  Mar 
grave.  "You  know/'  Raridan  went  on,  "we  were  kids 
together  up  there  on  those  hills.  We  both  had  our 
dancing  lessons  at  her  house,  and  did  such  stunts  as 
that  together." 

"Yes/'  said  Saxton. 

"I  want  to  work  and  show  that  I'm  some  good.  I 
want  to  make  myself  worthy  of  her."  He  got  up  and 
walked  the  floor,  while  Saxton  sat  and  watched  him. 

"I  can't  talk  about  it;  you  understand  what  I  want 
to  do.  It  has  seemed  to  me  lately  that  I  have  more  to 
overcome  than  I  can  ever  manage.  I  made  a  lot  of 
fuss  about  that  Knights  of  Midas  rot.  I  ought  to 
have  helped  her  about  that;  it  was  hard  for  her,  but 
I  was  too  big  a  fool  to  know  it,  and  I  made  myself 
ridiculous  lecturing  her.  I  forgot  that  she'd  grown 
up,  and  I  didn't  know  she  felt  as  she  did  about  it. 
I  acted  as  if  I  thought  she  was  crazy  to  pose  in  that 
fool  show,  when  I  might  have  known  better.  It  was 
downright  low  of  me."  He  stood  at  the  window  play 
ing  with  the  cord  of  the  shade  and  looking  out  over 
the  town.  Saxton  walked  to  the  window  and  stood  by 
him,  saying  nothing;  and  after  a  moment  he  put  his 
hand  on  Raridan's  shoulder  and  turned  him  round  and 


210  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

grasped  Warry's  slender  fingers  in  his  broad,  strong 
hand. 

"I  understand  how  it  is,  old  man.  It  isn't  so  bad  as 
you  think  it  is,  I'm  sure.  It  will  all  come  out  right, 
and  while  we're  making  confessions  I  want  to  make 
one  too.  I  feel  rather  foolish  doing  it — as  if  I  were  in 
the  game—"  and  he  smiled  in  the  way  he  had,  which 
brought  his  humility  and  patience  and  desire  to  be  on 
good  terms  with  the  world  into  his  face, — "but  I  want 
you  to  know  about  this  afternoon — that — that  just  hap 
pened — my  being  with  her.  You  see,  I  didn't  know 
she  was  there,  and  she  had — I  guess  she  had  broken  her 
driver  or  something,  and  quit,  and  I  was  coming  in  and 
she  picked  me  up,  and  I'm  sorry,  and — " 

Earidan  wheeled  on  him  as  if  he  had  just  caught  the 
drift  of  his  talk. 

"Oh,  come  off !  You  howling  idiot !  Don't  you  talk 
that  way  to  me  again.  Get  your  hat  now  and  let's  get 
out  of  this." 

"I'm  glad  you're  feeling  better,"  said  Saxton,  and 
laughed  with  real  relief. 

John  turned  out  the  light,  and  while  they  waited 
for  the  elevator  to  come  up  for  them  Warry  jingled 
the  coins  and  keys  in  his  pockets  before  he  blurted: 

"I  say,  John,  I'm  an  underbred,  low  person,  and  am 
not  worthy  to  be  called  thy  friend,  and  you  may  hate 
me  all  you  like,  but  one  thing  I'd  like  to  know.  Did 
she  say  anything  about  me  when  you  passed  us  this 
afternoon — make  any  comment  or  anything?  You 
know  I  despise  myself  for  asking,  but — " 

Saxton  laughed  quietly. 


WARRY'S  REPENTANCE  211 

"Yes,  she  did;  but  I  don't  know  that  I  ought  to  tell 
you.  It  was  really  encouraging." 

"Well,  hurry  up." 

"She  said,  'Miss  Margrave  has  a  lot  of  style;  don't 
you  think  so?'" 

"Is  that  all?"  demanded  Raridan,  stepping  into  the 
oar. 

"That's  all.  It  wasn't  very  much;  but  it  was  the 
way  she  said  it;  and  as  she  said  it  she  brushed  a  fly 
from  the  horse  with  the  whip>  and  she  did  it  very  care 
fully." 

In  the  corridor  below  they  met  Wheaton  coming  out 
of  the  side  door  of  the  bank.  He  had  been  at  work, 
he  said.  Raridan  asked  him  to  go  with  them  to  the 
club  for  a  game  of  billiards,  but  he  pleaded  weariness 
and  said  he  was  going  to  bed. 

The  three  men  walked  up  Varney  Street  together. 
Those  spirits  that  order  our  lives  for  us  must  have 
viewed  them  with  interest  as  they  tramped  through  the 
street.  They  were  men  of  widely  different  antecedents 
and  qualities.  Circumstances,  in  themselves  natural 
and  harmless,  had  brought  them  together.  The  lives  of 
all  three  were  to  be  influenced  by  the  weakness  of  one, 
and  one  woman's  life  was  to  be  profoundly  affected  by 
contact  with  all  of  them.  It  is  not  ordained  for  us  to 
know  whether  those  we  touch  hands  with,  and  even 
break  bread  with,  from  day  to  day,  are  to  bring  us  good 
or  evil.  The  electric  light  reveals  nothing  in  the  sibyl's 
book  which  was  not  disclosed  of  old  to  those  who  pon 
dered  the  mysteries  by  starlight  and  rushlight. 

Wheaton  left  them  at  the  club  door  and  went  on  to 


212  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

The  Bachelors',  which,  was  only  a  step  farther  up  the 
street. 

"How  do  you  like  Wheaton  by  this  time?"  asked 
Raridan,  as  they  entered  the  club. 

"I  hardly  know  how  to  answer  that/'  Saxton  an 
swered.  "He's  treated  me  well  enough.  It  seems  to 
me  I'm  always  trying  to  find  some  reason  for  not  liking 
him,  but  I  can't  put  my  hand  on  anything  tangible." 

"That's  the  way  I  feel/'  said  Raridan,  hanging  up  his 
coat  in  the  billiard  room.  "He's  a  rigid  devil,  some 
way.  There's  no  let-go  in  him.  I  guess  the  law  allows 
us  to  dislike  some  people  just  on  general  principles, 
and  Jim  likes  himself  so  well  that  you  and  I  don't 
matter.  It's  your  shot." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

FATHER  AND   DAUGHTER 

The  winds  of  January  had  no  better  luck  in  shaking 
down  the  leaves  of  the  scrub  oaks  on  the  Porter  hillside 
than  their  predecessors  of  November  and  December. 
The  snows  came  and  went  on  the  dull  slopes,  and  the 
canna  beds  were  little  blots  of  ruin  in  the  gray  stubble. 
The  house  was  a  place  of  light  and  life  once  more,  for 
Evelyn  had  obeyed  her  father's  wish  rather  than  her 
own  inclination  in  opening  its  doors  for  frequent  teas 
and  dinners  and  once  for  a  large  ball.  Many  people 
had  entertained  for  her;  she  had  never  been  intro 
duced  formally,  but  her  mother's  friends  made  up  for 
this  omission;  she  went  out  a  great  deal,  and  enjoyed 
it.  Many  young  men  climbed  the  hill  to  see  her,  and 
many  went  to  the  theater  or  to  dances  with  her  at  least 
once.  The  number  who  came  to  call  diminished  by 
Christmas ;  but  those  who  still  came,  and  were  identified 
as  frequenters  of  the  house,  came  oftener. 

Warry  Raridan  had  raged  at  the  mob,  as  he  called  it, 
which  he  seemed  always  to  find  installed  in  the  Porter 
drawing-room;  but  he  raged  inwardly  these  days,  save 
as  he  went  explosively  to  Saxton  for  comfort;  he  had 
stopped  raging  at  Evelyn.  He  was  at  work  more  stead 
ily  than  he  had  ever  been  before,  and  wished  the  credit 

213 


214  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

for  it  which  people  denied  him,  to  his  secret  disgust. 
He  had  idled  too  long,  or  he  had  too  often  before 
given  fitful  allegiance  to  labor.  Young  women  and 
old,  who  expected  him  to  pass  tea  for  them  in  the  after 
noons,  refused  to  believe  that  he  had  experienced  a 
change  of  heart.  Those  who  had  bragged  of  him 
abroad,  and  who  now  lured  the  eternal  visiting  girl  to 
town  to  behold  him,  were  chagrined  to  find  that  he  was 
difficult  to  produce,  and  mollified  their  guests  by  de 
claring  that  Warry  was  getting  more  fickle  and  un 
certain  as  he  grew  older,  or  took  vengeance  by  encour 
aging  the  rumor  that  he  and  Evelyn  Porter  were 
engaged. 

Wheaton  called  at  the  Porters'  often,  but  he  did 
not  go  now  with  Warry  Raridan;  he  even  took  some 
pains  to  go  when  Earidan  did  not.  He  knew  just  how 
much  time  to  allow  himself  between  The  Bachelors' 
and  the  Porter  door  bell  in  order  to  reach  the  drawing- 
room  at  five  minutes  past  eight.  He  was  now  consid 
ered  one  of  the  men  that  went  out  a  good  deal  in  Clark- 
son;  he  was  invited  to  many  houses,  and  began  to 
wonder  that  social  enjoyment  was  so  easy.  It  seemed 
long  ago  that  he  had  been  a  leading  figure  in  the  ball 
of  the  Knights  of  Midas.  Looking  back  at  that  inci 
dent  he  was  sensible  of  its  poverty  and  tawdriness;  he 
had  sacrificed  himself  for  the  public  good,  and  the 
community  shared  in  the  joke  of  it. 

Porter  had  an  amiable  way  of  darting  out  of  the 
library  in  the  evenings  when  he  and  Evelyn  were  both 
at  home,  to  see  who  came  in;  not  that  he  was  abnor 
mally  curious  as  to  who  rang  the  door  bell,  though  he 
enjoyed  occasionally  a  colloquy  with  a  tramp;  but  he 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER 

was  always  on  the  lookout  for  telegrams,  of  which  he 
received  a  great  many  at  home,  and  he  declared  in  his 
chaffing  note  of  complaint  that  the  people  in  the  house 
were  forever  hiding  them  from  him.  He  sometimes 
brought  home  bundles  of  papers  and  spent  whole  even 
ings  digesting  them  and  making  computations.  With 
out  realizing  that  Wheaton  was  in  his  house  pretty 
often,,  he  was  glad  to  know  that  his  cashier  came.  When 
he  found  that  Wheaton  was  in  the  drawing-room  he 
usually  went  over  to  talk  to  him  in  the  interim  before 
Evelyn  came  down.  Sometimes  a  bit  of  news  in  the 
evening  paper  gave  him  a  text, 

"I  see  that  they've  had  a  shaking  up  over  at  St.  Joe. 
Well,  Wigglesworth  never  was  any  good.  They  ought 
to  have  had  more  sense  than  to  get  caught  by  him. 
Well,  sir,  you  remember  he  was  offering  his  paper  up 
here.  We  could  have  had  a  barrel  of  it;  but  when  a 
man  of  his  credit  peddles  his  paper  away  from  home, 
it's  a  good  thing  to  let  alone.  When  they  figure  up 
Wigglesworth's  liabilities  they  will  find  that  he  has 
paper  scattered  all  over  the  Missouri  Valley,  and  I'll 
bet  the  Second's  stuck.  The  last  time  I  saw  Wiggles- 
worth  he  was  up  at  the  club  one  day  with  Buskirk. 
He'd  been  in  to  see  me  the  day  before.  I  guessed  then 
that  he  was  looking  for  help  which  they  didn't  think  he 
was  worth  at  home."  And  then,  with  a  chuckle :  "Our 
people,"  meaning  his  directors,  "think  sometimes  we're 
too  conservative,  and  I  reckon  I  do  lose  a  lot  of  busi 
ness  for  them  that  other  fellows  would  take  and  get 
out  of  all  right;  but  I  guess  we  make  more  in  the 
long  run  by  being  careful.  Banking  ain't  exactly 


216  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

stove  polish  or  vitalized  barley,  to  put  up  in  pretty 
packages  and  advertise  on  the  billboards." 

Wheaton  was  honestly  sympathetic  and  responsive 
along  these  lines.  He  admired  Porter,  although  he 
often  felt  that  the  president  made  mistakes;  yet  he, 
too,  believed  in  conservatism;  it  was  a  matter  of  tem 
perament  rather  than  principle.  This  mingling  of 
social  and  business  elements  pleased  and  nattered 
Wheaton.  He  felt  that  his  position  in  the  Porter  bank 
gave  him  a  double  footing  in  the  Porter  house.  Porter 
usually  ignored  Evelyn's  presence  while  he  finished 
whatever  he  was  saying.  Then  he  would  go  back  to  his 
chair  in  the  library,  where  he  could  hear  the  voices 
across  the  hall;  but  he  never  remained  after  he  had 
concluded  his  own  talk  with  Wheaton. 

Sometimes,  however,  when  there  were  other  men  in 
the  house,  Porter  would  come  and  stand  in  the  door  and 
regard  them  good-humoredly,  and  nod  to  them  amiably, 
usually  with  his  cigar  in  his  mouth  and  the  evening 
newspaper  in  his  hand.  When  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
laughing  he  would  go  over  and  gaze  upon  .them  ques- 
tioningly  and  quiz  them;  but  they  usually  felt  the 
restraint  of  his  presence.  If  they  repeated  to  him  some 
story  which  had  prompted  their  mirth,  he  was  wont  to 
rebuke  them  with  affected  seriousness,  or  he  would  tell 
them  a-  story  of  his  own.  He  expected  Evelyn  to  receive 
a  great  deal  of  attention.  He  liked  to  know  who  her 
callers  were  and  where  she  herself  visited,  and  it  pleased 
him  that  she  had  called  on  all  her  mother's  old  friends, 
whether  they  had  been  to  see  her  or  not.  He  had  a 
sense  of  the  dignities  and  proprieties  of  life,  and  he  felt 
his  own  prestige  as  a  founder  of  the  town;  it  would 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER 

have  been  a  source  of  grief  to  him  if  Evelyn  had  not 
taken  a  leading  place  among  its  young  people. 

The  theater  was  the  one  diversion  that  appealed  to 
him,  and  he  liked  to  take  Evelyn  with  him,  and  wanted 
her  to  sit  in  a  box  so  that  he  might  show  her  off  to 
better  advantage.  He  could  not  understand  why  she 
preferred  seats  in  the  orchestra;  Timothy  Margrave 
and  his  daughter  always  sat  in  a  box,  and  young  men 
were  forever  running  in  to  talk  to  Mabel  between  the 
acts.  Porter  thought  that  this  showed  a  special  defer 
ence  to  the  Margrave  girl,  as  he  called  her,  and  for  her 
father  too,  by  implication,  and  he  resented  anything 
that  looked  like  a  slight  upon  Evelyn.  He  was  afraid 
that  she  did  not  entertain  enough,  and  since  the  girls 
who  visited  them  in  the  fall  had  left,  he  had  been  in 
sisting  that  she  must  have  others  come  to  see  her.  He 
had  made  her  tell  him  about  all  the  girls  she  had 
known  in  college;  his  curiosity  in  such  directions  was 
almost  insatiable.  He  always  demanded  to  know  what 
their  fathers  did  for  a  livelihood,  and  he  had  been 
surprised  to  find  that  so  many  of  Evelyn's  classmates 
had  been  daughters  of  inconspicuous  families,  and  that 
the  young  women  were  in  many  cases  fitting  themselves 
to  teach.  He  had  pretty  thoroughly  catalogued  all  of 
Evelyn's  college  friends,  and  he  suggested  about  once 
a  week  that  she  have  some  of  them  out. 

Sometimes,  after  Evelyn's  callers  had  gone,  she  and 
her  father  sat  and  talked  in  the  library. 

"I  don't  see  what  you  young  people  can  find  to  say 
so  much  about,"  he  would  say;  or:  "What  was  Warry 
gabbling  about  so  long?" 

She  always  told  him  what  had  been  talked  about, 


218  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

with  a  careful  frankness,  lest  lie  might  imagine  that 
the  visits  of  Wheaton  or  Warry,  or  any  one  else,  had 
a  special  intention.  She  crossed  over  to  the  library 
one  night  after  several  callers  had  left,  and  found  her 
father  more  absorbed  than  usual  in  a  mass  of  papers 
which  lay  on  the  large  table  before  him.  He  put  down 
his  glasses  and  lay  back  in  his  chair  wearily. 

"Well,  girl,  is  it  time  to  go  to  bed  ?  Sit  down  there 
and  tell  me  the  news." 

"There  isn't  anything  worth  telling;  you  know  there 
isn't  much  information  in  the  average  caller."  He 
yawned  and  rubbed  his  eyes  and  paid  no  attention  to 
her  answer.  He  had  asked  a  few  days  before  whether 
she  cared  to  go  to  Chicago  to  hear  the  opera,  and  she 
had  said  that  she  would  go  if  he  would;  and  he  now 
wished  to  talk  this  out  with  her. 

"The  Whipples  are  going  over  to  Chicago  for  the 
opera,"  he  ventured. 

"But  you're  not  getting  ready  to  back  out!  You 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself."  She  rose  and  went 
toward  him  menacingly,  and  he  put  up  his  hands  as  if 
to  ward  off  her  attack. 

"But  you  can  have  just  as  much  fun  with  the  gen 
eral  as  you  could  with  me." 

"No,  I  can't;  and  for  another  thing  you  need  a  rest. 
You  never  go  away  except  on  business;  the  fact  is,  you 
never  get  business  out  of  your  mind.  Now,  let  me 
gather  up  these  things  for  you."  She  reached  for  the 
array  of  balance  sheets  on  his  table,  and  he  threw  his 
arms  over  them  protectingly. 

"Please  go  away!     I've  spent  all  evening  straight- 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER  219 

ening  these  things  out."  She  retreated  to  her  chair, 
and  he  began  rolling  up  his  papers. 

"You'd  better  go  with  the  Whipples,  and  Mrs. 
Whipple  will  help  you  do  your  shopping.  It  doesn't 
seem  to  me  that  you  have  many  clothes.  You'd  better 
get  some  more." 

"You  can't  buy  me  off  that  way,  father.  Either  you 
go  or  I  don't."  He  turned  toward  her  again  when  he 
had  rolled  his  papers  into  a  packet  and  fixed  a  rubber 
band  around  them.  She  knew,  as  she  usually  did  after 
such  approaches,  that  he  wanted  to  say  something  in 
particular. 

"You  mustn't  settle  down  too  soon.  You  can't  al 
ways  be  young,  and  you  can  easily  get  into  a  rut  here." 

"Yes,  but  I  haven't  had  time  yet;  I've  hardly  got 
settled.  I  want  to  get  acquainted  at  home  before  I  go 
away.  I'm  afraid  they  still  look  on  me  as  a  pilgrim 
and  a  stranger  here." 

"But  they're  all  nice  to  you,  ain't  they?"  he  de 
manded  sharply. 

"They  are  certainly  as  kind  as  can  be,"  she  an 
swered.  "I  haven't  a  single  complaint.  I'm  having 
just  the  time  I  wanted  to  have  when  I  came  home." 

"I  don't  want  to  lose  you  too  soon,  girl."  It  was 
half  a  question.  She  wondered  whether  this  could  be 
what  he  had  been  leading  up  to. 

"And  I  don't  want  you  to  lose  me  at  all !  I  didn't 
come  home  after  all  these  years  to  have  you  lose  me." 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  right  away,"  he  said.  "But 
sometime — sometime  you  will  have  to  go,  I  suppose." 

"I'm  certainly  not  thinking  of  it."  She  was  laugh 
ing  and  trying  to  break  his  mood;  but  he  was  very 


220  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

serious,  and  took  a  cigar  from  his  pocket  and  put  it  in 
his  mouth. 

"You'll  have  to  go  sometime;  and  when  you  do>  I 
want  the  right  kind  of  a  man  to  have  you." 

"So  do  I,  father." 

"You  are  old  enough  to  understand  that  a  girl  in 
your  position  is  likely  to  be  sought  by  men  who  may — • 
who  may — well,  who  may  be  swayed  somewhat  by 
worldly  considerations." 

"Isn't  that  a  trifle  hard  on  me?  I  hoped  I  was  a 
little  more  attractive  than  that,  father." 

"You  know  what  I  mean,"  he, went  on.  "I  guess  we 
can  tell  that  sort  when  they  come  around.  I've  had 
an  idea  that  yooi  might  choose  to  marry  away  from 
here;  you've  been  away  a  good  deal;  you  must  have 
met  a  good  many  young  men,  brothers  of  your 
friends — " 

"Yes,  I  met  them,  father,  and  that  was  all  there 
was  to  it." 

"I  shouldn't  like  you  to  marry  away  from  here.  I've 
been  afraid  you  wouldn't  like  our  old  town.  I  guess  we 
fellows  that  started  it  like  it  better  than  anybody  else 
does;  but  I  can  see  how  you  might  not  care  so  much 
for  it."  He  waited,  and  she  knew  that  he  wanted  her 
to  disavow  any  such  feeling. 

"Why,  I've  never  had  any  idea  of  wanting  to  live 
anywhere  else !  I  don't  believe  I'd  be  happy  away  from 
here.  It's  home,  and  it  always  will  be  home.  I  hope 
we  can  stay  and  keep  the  old  house  here — " 

She  sat  forward  with  her  arms  on  the  curved  sides 
of  the  chair.  He  did  not  heed  what  she  said.  Older 
people  have  this  way  with  youth  when  they  are  intent 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER  221 

on  the  impression  they  wish  to  make  and  count  upon 
acquiescence. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  sacrifice  yourself  for  me  out 
of  any  sense  of  duty;  the  time  will  come  when  it  will 
be  all  right  for  you  to  go,  and  when  it  comes  I  want  you 
to  go  to  a  man  who's  decent  and  square — "  He  paused 
as  if  trying  to  think  of  desirable  attributes.  "I  don't 
care  whether  he's  got  much  or  not,  but  I  like  young 
men  who  know  how  to  work  for  a  living  and  who've  got 
a  little  common  sense.  I  guess  we  don't  need  any 
dukes  or  counts  in  our  family;  we've  all  been  honest 
and  decent  as  far  as  I  know,  and  I  reckon  Americans 
are  good  enough  for  us.  I  don't  know  that  what  I've 
got  would  support  one  of  those  French  counts  more  than 
a  week  or  two."  His  eyes  brightened  as  they  met  hers. 
The  idea  of  a  titled  son-in-law  amused  him,  and  Evelyn 
laughed  out  merrily.  She  did  not  altogether  like  the 
turn  of  the  talk,  but  she  was  curious  to  know  what  he 
was  driving  at. 

"You  understand  I  don't  want  to  appear  to  dictate/' 
he  went  on  magnanimously.  "I  don't  believe  in  that. 
Nobody  knows  as  well  as  a  girl  whom  she  wants  to 
marry.  Sometimes  girls  make  pretty  bad  breaks;  but 
I  guess  most  marriages  are  happy.  Men  are  not  all 
good,  and  there  are  some  mighty  foolish  women,  besides 
the  downright  wicked  ones.  I  guess  our  young  men  in 
Clarkson  are  as  good  as  there  are  anywhere.  Most  of 
them  have  to  work,  and  that's  good  for  them.  I  guess 
I  appreciate  family  and  that  kind  of  thing  as  well  as 
the  next  man,  but  it  ain't  eveTything."  He  was  speak 
ing  slowly,  and  when  he  made  a  long  pause  here,  Evelyn 
rose  and  went  over  to  the  open  grate  and  poked  in  the 


222  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

ashes  for  the  few  remaining  coals.  He  watched  her  as 
she  stooped,  noting,  half  consciously,  the  fine  line  of  her 
profile,  the  ripple  of  light  in  her  hair,  the  girlishness 
of  her  slim  figure. 

"No  use  of  fooling  with  that  fire,"  he  said.  She 
knew  that  he  wished  to  say  more,  and  she  put  the  poker 
in  its  brass  rack  and  rose  and  stood  by  the  mantel. 

"At  my  age,  life  gets  more  uncertain  every  day;  I 
seem  to  be  pretty  sound,  but  I  was  sixty-four  my  last 
birthday,  and  if  I'd  been  in  the  army  they  would  have 
kicked  me  out  of  my  job;  but  so  long  as  I  work  for 
myself  I  suppose  111  hang  on  until  I  can't  stand  up 
in  the  harness  any  more." 

"But  that's  a  mistake,  father,"  she  put  in.  "Why 
shouldn't  you  take  some  rest  now  ?  If  there's  no  other 
way,  why  not  close  out  your  interest  in  the  bank  and 
take  things  easier  ?  You  ought  to  travel ;  you've  never 
been  out  of  the  country,  and  there  are  lots  of  things  in 
Europe  that  you'd  enjoy;  the  rest  and  change  would 
do  you  a  world  of  good.  Can't  we  go  this  summer, 
and  take  Grant?  It  would  be  nice  for  us  all  to  go 
together." 

He  shook  his  head  with  the  deprecating  air  which 
men  of  Porter's  type  have  for  such  suggestions.  "It 
would  be  mighty  nice,  but  I  can't  do  it.  Here's  Thomp 
son  away,  and  no  telling  when  he'll  be  back,  and  I 
have  other  things  besides  the  bank  to  look  after;  more 
than  you  know  about."  She  knew  only  vaguely  what 
his  interests  were,  for  he  never  mentioned  them  to 
her;  he  believed  that  women  are  incapable  of  com 
prehending  such  things;  and  his  natural  secretiveness 
was  always  on  guard.  He  even  entertained  a  kind  of 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER  223 

superstition  that  if  he  told  of  anything  he  was  planning 
he  jeopardized  his  chances  of  success. 

"No,  I  guess  there  ain't  going  to  be  any  Europe  for 
me  just  now.  But  I'd  be  glad  to  have  you  and  Grant 
go."  He  had  been  side-tracked  in  his  talk,  and  chewed 
his  cigar  while  trying  to  find  the  way  back  to  the  main 
line.  Then  he  broke  out  irrelevantly: 

"Warry  doesn't  seem  to  settle  down.  We  used  to 
think  Warry  had  great  things  in  him,  but  they're 
mighty  slow  coming  out." 

"Well,  he's  still  young,"  said  Evelyn.  "It  takes  a 
young  man  a  long  time  to  get  a  start  these  days  in  the 
professions."  Her  father  looked  at  her  keenly. 

"I'm  afraid  it  isn't  lack  of  opportunity  with  Warry. 
If  he'd  ever  get  after  anything  in  real  earnest  he  could 
make  it  go ;  but  he  seems  to  fool  away  his  time."  He 
said  this  as  if  he  expected  Evelyn  to  continue  her  de 
fense,  but  she  said  merely: 

"It's  too  bad  if  he's  doing  that  when  he  has  ability." 
She  walked  back  to  her  chair  and  sat  down.  She  knew 
that  Warry  was  really  at  work,  but  she  was  afraid  to 
show  any  particular  knowledge  of  him. 

"It's  one  of  the  queer  things  to  me  that  young  fel 
lows  who  have  every  chance  don't  seem  to  get  on  as 
well  as  others  who  haven't  any  backing.  Now,  all 
Warry  had  to  do  was  to  stay  in  his  office  and  attend 
to  business — or  that's  all  he  needed  to  do  three  or  four 
years  ago,  when  he  set  up  to  practise;  but  now  every 
body's  given  him  up.  A  man  who  doesn't  want  an 
opportunity  in  this  world  doesn't  have  to  kick  it  very 
hard  to  get  rid  of  it.  Other  fellows,  who  never  had 
any  chance,  are  watching  for  the  luckier  ones  to  slip 


224:  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

back.  There  axe  never  any  lonesome  places  on  the 
ladder.  Now,  there's  Wheaton — "  He  again  exam 
ined  Evelyn's  face  in  one  of  those  tranquil  stares  with 
which  he  made  his  most  minute  scrutiny  of  people. 
"Wheaton  ain't  a  showy  fellow  like  Warry,  but  he's  one 
of  the  sort  that  make  their  way  because  they  keep  an 
eye  open  to  the  main  chance.  Jim  came  into  the  bank 
as  a  messenger,  and  I  guess  he's  had  pretty  much  every 
job  we've  got,  and  he's  done  them  well."  He  had 
lighted  his  cigar  and  was  talking  volubly.  "When 
Thompson  played  out  and  had  to  go  away,  we  looked 
around  for  somebody  on  the  inside  who  knew  the  run 
of  our  business  to  put  inj  there  to  help  me.  None  of 
the  directors  wanted  to  come  in,  and  so  we  pulled  Jim 
out  of  the  paying  teller's  cage,  and  he's  just  about  saved 
my  back.  Now,  Jim's  not  so  smart,  but  he's  steady  and 
safe,  and  that's  what  counts  in  business." 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  wobbled  the  cigar  in 
his  mouth. 

"These  young  Napoleons  of  finance  are  forever  chas 
ing  off  to  Canada  with  other  folks'  money;  they're 
too  brilliant  I  tell  'em  down  town  that  it  ain't 
genius  we  want  in  business,  it's  just  ordinary,  plain, 
every-day  talent  for  getting  down  early  and  staying 
at  your  job.  That's  what  I  say.  There  was  Smith 
over  at  the  Drovers'  National;  he  was  a  clear  case 
of  genius.  They  thought  over  there  that  he  was  mak 
ing  business  by  chasing  around  the  country  attend 
ing  banquets  and  speaking  at  bankers'  conventions . 
I  guess  Smith's  essays  were  financially  sound  too,  for 
Smith  knew  finance,  scientific  finance,  like  a  college 
professor,  and  used  to  come  to  the  clearing-house  meet- 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER  225 

ings  and  talk  to  beat  the  band  about  what  Bageliot  said 
and  how  the  Bank  of  England  did ;  but  all  the  time  he 
was  spending  his  Sundays  over  in  Kansas  City,  drum 
ming  up  banking  business  by  playing  poker  with  the 
gentlemen  he  expected  to  get  for  his  customers.  He's 
running  a  laundry  now  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  Cana 
dian  border.  Over  at  the  Drovers'  they  ain't  so  terribly 
scientific  now,  and  their  cashier  don't  have  an  expense 
fund  to  carry  him  around  the  country  making  con 
nections.  Making  connections!"  he  repeated,  and 
chuckled.  He  had  the  conceit  of  his  own  wisdom,  and 
while  he  was  always  generous  in  his  dealings  with  his 
rivals,  and  had  several  times  helped  them  out  of  diffi 
culties,  he  rejoiced  in  their  errors  and  congratulated 
himself  on  his  foresight  and  caution. 

"You  oughtn't  to  laugh  at  the  downfall  of  other 
people,"  said  Evelyn;  "it's  wicked  of  you."  But  she 
was  laughing  herself  at  his  enjoyment  of  his  own  joke, 
and  was  proud  of  the  qualities  which  she  knew  had 
contributed  to  his  success.  He  felt  baffled  that  he  had 
not  fully  concluded  all  he  had  intended  to  say  about 
Wheaton  and  his  merits,  but  he  did  not  see  his  way  back 
to  the  subject,  and  he  rose  yawning. 

"I  guess  it's  time  to  go  to  bed/'  he  said,  and  he  went 
about  turning  off  the  electric  lights  by  the  buttons  in 
the  hall.  Evelyn  went  upstairs  ahead  of  him,  and 
kissed  him  good  night  at  his  door. 

"You'd  better  go  to  the  opera  with  the  Whipples," 
he  called  to  her  over  his  shoulder,  as  he  waited  for  her 
to  reach  her  own  door  before  turning  off  the  upper  hall 
light. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  she  answered  through  the  dark. 


226  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

The  novel  with  which  Evelyn  tried  to  read  herself 
to  sleep  that  night  did  not  hold  her  attention,  and  after 
her  memory  had  teased  her  into  impatience,  she  threw 
the  book  down  and  for  a  long  time  lay  thinking.  She 
knew  her  father  so  well  that  she  had  no  doubt  of  the 
current  of  his  thought  and  his  wish  to  praise  James 
Wheaton  and  disparage  Warry  Karidan,  and  it  troubled 
her;  no>t  because  she  herself  had  any  well-defined 
preferences  as  between  them  or  in  their  favor  as  against 
all  other  men  she  knew;  but  it  seemed  to  her  that  her 
father  had  disclosed  his  own  feeling  rather  unnecessarily 
and  pointedly. 

Suddenly,  as  she  lay  thinking  and  staring  at  the 
walls,  life  took  on  new  and  serious  aspects,  and  she 
did  not  want  it  to  be  so.  Because  she  had  been  so 
much  away  from  home  the  provincial  idea  that  every 
man  that  calls  on  a  girl,  or  takes  her  to  a  theater  in 
our  free,  unchaperoned  way,  is  a  serious  suitor  had 
not  impressed  her.  She  had  expected  to  come  home 
and  enjoy  herself  indefinitely,  and  had  idealized  a  sit 
uation  in  which  she  should  be  the  stay  of  her  father 
through  his  old  age,  and  the  chum  and  guide  of  her 
brother,  in  whom  the  repetition  of  her  mother's  char 
acteristics  strongly  appealed  to  her.  There  had  been 
little  trouble  or  grief  in  her  life,  and  now  for  the  first 
time  she  saw  uncertainties  ahead  where  a  few  hours 
before  everything  had  seemed  simple  and  clear.  She 
had  felt  no  offense  when  her  father  spoke  slightingly 
of  Warry  Earidan;  she  knew  that  her  father  really 
liked  him,  as  every  one  did,  and  she  would  not  have 
hesitated  to  say  that  she  admired  him  greatly,  even 
in  his  possession  of  those  traits  which  betrayed  the 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER  227 

weaknesses  of  his  character.  She  certainly  had  no 
thought  of  him  save  as  a  whimsical  and  amusing 
friend,  a  playmate  who  had  never  grown  up. 

It  was  true  that  he  had  made  love  to  her,,  or  had 
tried  to;  but  she  had  no  faith  in  his  sincerity.  She 
had  first  felt  amused,  and  then  a  little  sorry,  when  he 
had  gone  to  work  so  earnestly.  He  took  the  trouble  to 
remind  her  frequently  that  it  was  all  for  her,  and  she 
laughed  at  him  and  at  the  love-making  which  he  was 
always  attempting  and  which  she  always  thwarted. 
Saxton  did  not  come  often  to  the  house,  but  when  he 
came  he  exercised  his  ingenuity  to  bring  Raridan  into 
the  talk  in  the  rare  times  that  they  were  alone  together. 
She  knew  why  Saxton  praised  her  friend  to  her,  and 
it  increased  her  liking  for  him.  It  is  curious  how  a 
woman's  pity  goes  out  to  a  man;  any  suggestion  of 
misfortune  makes  an  excuse  for  her  to  clothe  him  with 
her  compassion.  It  is  as  though  Nature,  in  denying 
gifts  or  inflicting  punishment,  hastened  to  throw  in 
compensations.  Saxton  asked  so  little,  and  beamed  so 
radiantly  when  given  so  little ;  he  received  kindnesses  so 
shyly,  as  if,  of  course,  they  could  not  be  meant  for  him, 
but  it  was  all  right  anyway,  and  he  would  move  on  just 
as  soon  as  the  other  fellow  came. 

As  for  Wheaton,  he  was  certainly  not  frivolous,  and 
her  father's  respect  for  him  and  dependence  on  him 
had  communicated  itself  to  her.  He  was  so  much  older 
than  she;  and  at  twenty-two,  thirty-five  savors  of  an 
tiquity;  but  he  was  steady,  and  steadiness  was  a  trait 
that  she  respected.  He  was  terribly  formal,  but  he  was 
kind  and  thoughtful;  he  was  even  handsome,  or  at 
least  so  every  one  said. 


228  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

She  lay  dreaming  until  the  clock  on  the  mantel 
chimed  midnight,  when  she  reached  for  the  novel 
that  had  fallen  on  the  coverlet,  to  put  it  on  the  stand 
beside  her  bed.  A  card  which  she  had  been  using  as  a 
mark  fell  from  the  book;  she  picked  it  up  and  turned 
it  over  to  see  whose  it  was.  It  was  John  Saxton's. 

"Father  didn't  say  anything  about  him/'  she  said 
aloud.  She  thrust  the  card  back  into  the  book  and 
reached  up  and  snapped  out  the  light. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A  FORECAST  AT  THE  WHIFFLES* 

There  was  a  cup  of  tea  at  the  Whipples'  for  any  one 
that  dropped  in  at  five  o'clock.  The  general  kept  a 
syphon  in  the  icebox,  and  his  wife's  tea,  which  he  loathed, 
gave  him  his  excuse.  He  was  fond  of  saying  that  an 
exacting  government  made  it  impossible  for  an  army 
officer  to  get  acquainted  with  his  wife  until  after  his  re 
tirement,  and  then,  he  declared,  there  was  nothing  to 
discuss  but  the'  opportunities  in  life  which  they  had 
missed.  They  talked  a  great  deal  to  each  other  about 
their  neighbors,  and  about  their  friends  in  the  army 
whose  lives  they  were  able  to  follow  through  the  daily 
list  of  transfers  in  the  newspapers,  and  the  ampler  cur 
rent  history  of  the  military  establishment  in  the  Army 
and  Navy  Journal.  Few  men  in  Clarkson  had  time  for 
the  general.  He  found  the  club  an  unsocial  place,  and 
he  preferred  his  own  battered  copies  of  "Pendennis"  and 
"Henry  Esmond"  to  anything  in  the  club  library.  Oc 
casionally  when  Mrs.  Whipple  was  out  for  luncheon  he 
went  to  the  club  for  midday  sustenance,  but  the  other 
men  who  hurried  through  their  forty  cents'  worth  of 
table  d'hote,  talked  of  matters  that  were  as  alien  to  him 
as  marine  law.  It  would  have  suited  the  general  much 
better  to  live  in  Washington,  where  others  with  equally 

229 


230  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

little  to  do  assembled  in  force;  but  his  wife  would  not 
hear  to  it.  She  would  not  have  her  husband,  she  said, 
becoming  a  professional  pall  bearer,  and  this  was  the 
occupation  of  retired  officers  of  the  army  and  navy  at 
the  capital.  He  submitted  to  her  superior  authority, 
as  he  always  did,  and  settled  in  Clarkson,  where  one 
could  get  much  more  for  one's  money  than  in  Wash 
ington. 

The  general  usually  remained  in  the  Indian  room  at 
the  tea  hour,  particularly  if  he  liked  the  talk  of  the 
women  who  appeared,  or  if  they  were  good  to  look  at; 
otherwise  he  carried  his  syphon  to  the  dining-room,  where 
there  was  a  bottle  of  the  same  brand  of  rye  whisky  which 
he  kept  back  of  "The  Life  of  Peter  the  Great"  in  a  book 
case  in  the  Indian  room.  He  and  Mrs.  Whipple  had 
gone  to  the  opera  without  Evelyn,  and  the  general  was 
now  settling  himself  to  his  domestic  routine.  He  had 
dodged  a  woman  whose  prattle  vexed  him  and  whose 
call  had  been  prolonged,  and  having  heard  the  door  close 
upon  her,  he  was  returning  to  his  own  preserve  with  the 
intention  of  getting  some  hot  water  from  Mrs.  Whip- 
pie's  tea  kettle  for  use  in  compounding  a  punch,  when 
Bishop  Delafield  came  in,  bringing  a  great  draft  of 
cold  air  with  his  huge  figure.  The  bishop  was  a  friend  of 
many  years'  standing.  His  sonorous  voice  filled  the  room 
and  aided  the  fire  in  promoting  cheeriness.  Mrs.  Whipple 
brewed  her  tea,  and  the  general  made  his  punch, — for 
two — for  it  was  certainly  snowing  somewhere  in  the 
Diocese  of  Clarkson,  the  bishop  said,  and  he  had  estab 
lished  his  joke  with  the  general  that  he  might  allow 
himself  spirits  in  bad  weather,  as  a  preventive  of  the 
rheumatism  which  he  never  had.  The  three  made  a 


A  FORECAST  AT  THE  WHIFFLES'   231 

cozy  picture  as  they  grouped  themselves  about  the  bright 
hearth.  They  were  discussing  the  marriage  of  an  old 
officer  whom  they  all  knew,  a  man  of  Whipple's  own 
age,  who  had  just  married  a  woman  much  his  junior. 

"It's  easy  for  us  all  to  philosophize  adversely  about 
such  things,"  said  the  general,  sitting  up  straight  in  his 
camp  chair.  "I  have  a  good  deal  of  sympathy  with 
Bixby.  He  was  lonely  and  his  children  were  all  mar 
ried  and  scattered  to  the  four  winds.  I  suppose  there's 
nothing  worse  than  loneliness." 

His  wife  frowned  at  him;  their  friend's  long  sorrow 
and  his  fidelity  to  his  memories  appealed  to  all  the 
romance  in  her. 

"It's  very  different,"  Mrs.  Whipple  made  haste  to  say, 
"where  there  are  children  at  home.  Now  there's  Mr. 
Porter;  he  has  Evelyn  and  Grant." 

"But  that  probably  won't  last  long,"  said  the  bishop. 
"Girls  have  a  way  of  leaving  home." 

"Well,  there's  nothing  imminent  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Whip- 
pie,  anxiously. 

"Oh,  no !  And  girls  that  have  been  educated  as  she 
has  been  are  likely  to  choose  warily,  aren't  they?" 

"Nothing  in  it,"  said  the  general,  stirring  his  glass. 
"They  all  go  when  they  get  ready,  without  notice.  Edu 
cation  doesn't  change  that." 

"It  strikes  me  that  there  aren't  many  eligible  men 
here,"  said  the  bishop.  "To  be  explicit,  just  whom  shall 
a  girl  like  Evelyn  Porter  marry?"  He  did  not  intend 
this  for  the  general,  who  was  refilling  the  glasses,  but 
the  general  refused  to  be  ignored. 

"It's  my  observation,"  he  began,  with  an  air  of  having 
much  to  impart,  if  they  would  only  let  him  alone,  "that 


232  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

in  every  town  the  size  of  this  there  are  people  who  are 
predestined  to  marry.  They  fight  it  as  hard  as  they 
can,  and  dodge  their  destinies  wherever  possible;  but 
it's  a  pretty  sure  thing  that  ultimately  they'll  hit  it  off." 

"That  sounds  like  a  sort  of  social  presbyterianism  to 
me/'  said  the  bishop  dryly,  "and  therefore  heretical." 
He  was  really  interested  in  knowing  what  Mrs.  Whipple 
knew  or  felt  on  this  subject  as  it  affected  Evelyn  Porter. 
"Now  you've  been  better  trained,  Mrs.  Whipple,"  he 
said. 

"Well,  so  far  as  Evelyn's  concerned,"  she  answered, 
knowing  that  this  was  what  the  bishop  wanted,  "I'm 
not  worrying  about  her.  She's  a  sensible  girl  and  will 
take  care  of  herself.  I'm  not  half  so  much  afraid  of 
destiny  as  of  propinquity.  We  all  know  how  the  bach 
elor  captain  goes  down  before  the  sister,  or  the  in-law  of 
some  kind,  of  the  colonel  of  the  regiment." 

"That's  not  propinquity,"  said  the  general;  "that's 
ordinary  Christian  charity  on  the  captain's  part." 

"Suppose,"  said  the  bishop  slowly,  "the  commandant 
so  to  speak,  is  really  a  banker,  with  a  trusted  officer,  a 
kind  of  adjutant  at  his  elbow;  and  also  a  handsome 
daughter.  Assume  such  a  hypothetical  case,  and  what 
are  you  going  to  do  about  it?"  He  drained  his  glass 
and  put  it  down  carefully. 

"This  looks  like  the  appeal  direct,"  answered  Mrs. 
Whipple,  laughing  and  looking  at  her  husband,  who  was 
meditating  another  punch  and  feeling  for  the  scent 
blindly. 

"I  don't  know  about  that  Mr.  Wheaton,"  said  Mrs. 
Whipple,  meeting  the  issue  squarely.  "He  doesn't  seem 
amusing  to  me,  but  then — I  don't  know  him !" 


A  FORECAST  AT  THE  WHIFFLES'   233 

"Must  one  be  amusing?"  asked  the  bishop. 

"Oh,,  I  mean  more  than  that!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Whipple.  "Don't  we  always  mean  intelligent  when  we 
say  amusing?" 

"Definitions  certainly  change.  We  are  growing  ter 
ribly  exacting  these  days.  But/'  he  added,  serious 
again,  "Wheaton's  a  success;  he's  pointed  to  as  one  of 
Clarkson's  rising  men;  one  of  the  really  self-made." 

"Yes;  I  fancy  he  never  knew  Evelyn  before  the 
Knights  of  Midas  ball;"  and  she  sighed,  wondering 
whether  she  was  culpable.  She  knew  that  the  bishop 
meant  more  than  he  had  said  and  that  this  was  a  kind 
of  warning  to  her.  She  felt  guilty,  remembering  the 
ball,  and  the  appeal  Evelyn  had  made  to  her  beforehand. 
A  woman  that  has  enjoyed  a  long  career  of  fancied  in 
fallibility  experiences  sorrow  when  she  suddenly  ques 
tions  the  wisdom  of  her  own  judgments. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Warry  Raridan  ?"  demanded 
the  general.  "He's  got  to  marry  somebody  some  day; 
he  and  Evelyn  would  make  a  very  proper  match. 
Wouldn't  they?"  he  pleaded,  when  his  wife  and  their 
visitor  did  not  respond  promptly. 

"Oh,  Warry's  well  enough,"  the  bishop  answered. 
"But  Warry's  an  uncertain  quantity.  He's  a  fine,  clean 
fellow,  with  all  kinds  of  possibilities;  but — they're  pos 
sibilities  !" 

"Warry's  certainly  bright  enough,"  said  General 
Whipple. 

"His  sense  of  humor  is  a  trifle  too  keen  for  every-day 
use,"  said  the  bishop. 

"WTiat's  he  been  up  to  now?"  asked  the  general. 

The  bishop  laughed  quietly  to  himself. 


234  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"It  was  this  way.  You  know  Warry's  interest  in 
church  matters  is  abnormal.  The  boy  really  knows  a 
lot  of  theology  for  one  who  has  never  studied  it.  He 
has,  he  says,  a  neat  taste  in  bishops,  whatever  that 
means — "  the  bishop  chuckled  softly, — "and  whenever 
one  of  my  brethren  visits  me,  Warry  always  lays  him 
self  out  to  give  us  what  he  calls  a  warm  little  time. 
A  few  days  ago  I  had  a  letter  from  the  Patriarch  of 
Alexandria,  whom  I  don't  know,  in  which  he  set  forth 
that  Doctor  Warrick  Earidan,  of  my  diocese,  had  writ 
ten  him  proposing  a  great  reunion  of  Christendom, 
based  on  the  Coptic  rite.  As  neither  the  Koman,  the 
Greek,  nor  the  Anglican  Church  afforded  a  common 
meeting  ground,  owing  to  many  difficulties,  the  Ameri 
can  gentleman  had  suggested  that  all  might  meet  at 
Alexandria.  The  Patriarch  was  delighted.  Doctor 
Earidan  had  suggested  me  as  a  reference,  hence  the 
venerable  prelate  wished  to  know  my  opinion  of  the 
extent  of  the  movement.  I  suppose  Warry  did  that 
as  a  joke  on  me,  or  to  get  the  Patriarch's  autograph, 
I  don't  know  which.  I  haven't  seen  Warry  since,  but 
I'm  disposed  to  dust  his  jacket  for  him  in  a  fatherly  way 
when  I  get  hold  of  him.  I  don't  know  why  the  Patri 
arch  should  call  Warry  'Doctor.'  He  probably  assumed 
that  a  man  who  could  write  as  good  a  letter  as  Warry 
is  capable  of  must  be  a  person  of  distinction." 

"Warry's  a  gentleman,  at  any  rate,"  said  Mrs. 
Whipple. 

"Which  Wheaton  isn't;  is  that  the  idea?"  demanded 
the  general;  and  then  added:  "This  Wheaton  strikes 
me  as  being  a  wooden  kind  of  fellow.  He  acts  as  if  he 
hadn't  been  used  to  things." 


A  FOEECAST  AT  THE  WHIFFLES'   235 

"Sh-h!  be  careful!  That's  no  test  of  worth  on  the 
banks  of  the  Missouri/'  said  his  wife  warningly. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Evelyn  Porter's  chances 
have  been  fully  covered?"  demanded  the  general.  He 
liked  gossip  and  hoped  the  subject  would  prove  more 
fruitful. 

"There's  Mr.  Saxton,"  said  his  wife.  "He  seems  al 
together  possible." 

"He's  the  new  man,  isn't  he  ?  He  always  lifts  his  hat 
to  me  in  the  street;  an  unusual  attention  in  this  ill- 
mannered  age." 

"Does  he  act  as  if  he  had  been  used  to  things?"  asked 
the  bishop.  He  was  still  seriously  interested  in  canvass 
ing  Evelyn's  case. 

"He's  very  nice/'  Mrs.  Whipple  said;  "but  he's  not 
desperately  exciting,  as  the  girls  say." 

"But  then !"  The  bishop  lifted  his  hands  with  a  de 
spairing  gesture,  "must  young  men  be  amusing  or  excit 
ing  in  these  days  ?  Is  he  honest  ?  Does  he  lead  a  clean 
life  ?  Has  he,  as  the  saying  is,  an  outlook  on  life  ?" 

"He  isn't  seeing  much  of  Evelyn,  I  think,"  said  Mrs. 
Whipple.  "And  he's  a  great  friend  of  Warry's.  They 
may  offset  each  other." 

"Bless  my  soul!"  exclaimed  the  general,  "I  don't  see 
any  use  in  worrying  over  Evelyn  Forter  and  her  suitors. 
She'll  have  plenty  of  them.  And  when  she  gets  good 
and  ready  she'll  up  and  marry  one  of  them." 

"No  girl  with  at  least  three  possibilities  in  one  town, 
to  say  nothing  of  dozens  she  may  have  elsewhere,  need 
be  a  subject  of  commiseration,"  said  Mrs.  Whipple. 

"But,"  began  the  bishop  slowly,  "it  might  be  better 
to  eliminate  at  least  one." 


236  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"Not  Warry  I"  threw  in  Mrs.  Whipple. 

"Not  Saxton/'  added  the  general.  "I  like  him;  he's 
polite  and  thoughtful  about  us  old  folks." 

The  bishop  had  risen,  knowing  that  the  climax  of  a 
conversation  is  best  given  standing. 

"I  shouldn't  cut  out  either  of  them,"  he  said,  smiling. 


CHAPTER  XX 

ORCHARD  LANE 

After  the  interim  of  quiet  that  Lent  always  brings 
in  Clarkson,  the  spring  came  swiftly.  There  was  a 
renewal  of  social  activities  which  ran  from  dances  and 
teas  into  outdoor  gatherings.  Evelyn  had  enjoyed  to 
the  full  her  experience  of  home.  She  had  plunged  into 
the  frivolities  of  the  town  with  a  zest  that  was  a  trifle 
emphasized  through  her  wish  to  escape  any  charge  of 
being  pedantic  OT  literary.  She  was  glad  that  she  had 
gone  to  college,  but  she  did  not  wish  this  fact  of  her 
life  to  be  the  haunting  ghost  of  her  days;  and  by  the 
end  of  the  winter  she  felt  that  she  had  pretty  effectually 
laid  it. 

In  June  Mr.  Porter  began  discussing  summer  plans 
with  Evelyn.  He  eliminated  himself  from  them;  he 
could  not  get  away,  he  said.  But  there  was  Grant  to  be 
considered.  The  boy  was  at  school  in  New  Hampshire, 
and  Evelyn  protested  that  it  was  not  wise  to  subject  him 
to  the  intense  heat  of  a  Clarkson  summer.  The  first 
hot  wave  sent  Porter  to  bed  with  a  trifling  illness,  and 
his  doctor  took  the  opportunity  to  look  him  over  and 
tell  him  that  it  was  imperative  for  him  to  rest.  Thomp 
son  came  home  from  Arizona  to  spend  the  summer.  He 
and  Wheaton  were  certainly  equal  to  the  care  of  the 

237 


238  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

bank,  so  they  urged  upon  Porter,  and  he  finally  yielded. 
Evelyn  found  a  hotel  on  the  Massachusetts  North  Shore 
which  sounded  well  in  the  circulars,  and  her  father 
agreed  to  it.  When  they  reached  Orchard  Lane  he  liked 
it  better  than  he  had  expected;  the  hotel  was  one  of 
those  vast  caravansaries  where  all  sorts  and  conditions 
assemble;  and  he  was  reassured  by  the  click  of  the 
telegraph  instrument  and  the  presence  of  the  long  dis 
tance  telephone  booth  in  the  office.  He  was  a  cockney 
of  the  rankest  kind  and  it  dulled  the  edge  of  his  isola 
tion  to  know  that  he  was  not  entirely  cut  off  from  the 
world.  Every  night  he  sat  down  with  cipher  telegrams, 
and  constructed  from  Thompson's  statistics  the  day's 
business  in  the  bank.  He  received  daily  from  New  York 
the  closing  quotations  on  the  shares  he  was  interested  in, 
and  as  he  walked  the  long  hotel  verandas  he  effected  a 
transmigration  of  spirit  which  put  him  back  in  his  swivel 
chair  in  the  Clarkson  National. 

Evelyn  made  him  drive  with  her  and  Grant,  and 
dragged  him  to  the  golf  course,  where  she  was  the  star 
player,  and  where  Grant  was  learning  the  game. 

A  college  friend  of  Evelyn's,  in  one  of  the  near-by 
cottages,  asked  her  neighbors  to  call  on  the  Porters. 
The  fact  that  the  cottagers  thus  set  the  mark  of  their 
approval  upon  the  Westerners,  gave  them  distinction 
at  the  hotel.  Several  men  of  Porter's  age  took  him 
to  their  quieter  porches  and  found  him  interesting; 
they  liked  his  stories,  though  they  hardly  excused  his 
ignorance  of  whist;  in  their  hearts  they  accused  him 
of  poker,  of  which  he  was  guiltless.  Incidentally  they 
got  a  good  deal  of  information  from  him  touching  their 
Western  interests;  it  was  worth  while  to  know  a  man 


ORCHARD  LANE  239 

that  received  the  crop  news  ahead  of  the  newspapers. 
He  liked  the  praise  of  Evelyn  which  was  constantly 
reaching  him;  she  was  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  place; 
her  golf  was  certainly  better  than  any  other  girl's. 
When  she  won  a  cup  in  the  tournament  he  waited 
anxiously  to  see  what  the  Boston  papers  said  about  it, 
and  he  surreptitiously  mailed  the  cuttings  home  to  the 
Clarkson  Gazette. 

In  August  Warry  Raridan  appeared  suddenly  and 
threw  himself  into  the  gaieties  of  the  place  for  a  fort 
night.  Mr.  Porter  asked  him  to  sit  at  their  table  and 
marveled  at  the  way  Evelyn  snubbed  him,  even  to  the 
extent  of  running  away  for  three  days  with  some  friends 
who  had  a  yacht  and  who  carried  her  to  Newport  for  a 
dance.  During  her  absence  Warry  made  all  the  other 
girls  about  the  place  happy;  they  were  sure  that  "that 
Miss  Porter"  was  treating  him  shabbily  and  their  hearts 
went  out  to  him.  Warry  sulked  when  Evelyn  returned 
and  they  had  an  interview  between  dances  at  a  Saturday 
night  hop. 

He  sought  again  for  recognition  as  a  lover;  she  had 
not  praised  the  efforts  he  had  been  making  to  win  her 
approval  by  diligence  at  his  office;  he  took  care  to  call 
her  attention  to  his  changed  habits. 

"But,  Evelyn,  I  am  doing  differently.  I  know  that  I 
wasted  myself  for  years  so  that  Fm  a  kind  of  joke  and 
everybody  laughs  about  me.  But  I  want  to  know — I 
want  to  feel  that  I'm  doing  it  for  you !  Don't  you  know 
how  that  would  help  me  and  steady  me  ?  Won't  you  let 
it  be  for  you?"  He  came  close  to  her  and  stood  with 
his  arms  folded,  but  she  drew  away  from  him  with  a 
despairing  gesture. 


THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"Oh,  Warry,"  she  cried,  wearily,  "you  poor,  foolish 
boy !  Don't  you  know  that  you  must  do  all  things  for 
yourself  ?" 

"Yes,"  he  returned  eagerly.  "I  know  that;  I  under 
stand  perfectly;  but  if  you'd  only  let  rne  feel  that  you 
wanted  it — " 

"I  want  you  to  succeed,  but  you  will  never  do  it  for 
any  one,  if  you  don't  do  it  for  yourself." 

He  went  home  by  an  early  train  next  morning  to 
receive  Saxton's  consolation  and  to  turn  again  to  his 
law  books.  Margrave,  on  behalf  of  the  Transcontinental, 
had  offered  to  compromise  the  case  of  the  poor  widow 
whose  clothes  lines  had  been  interfered  with ;  but  Kari- 
dan  rejected  this  tender.  He  needed  something  on  which 
to  vent  his  bad  spirits,  and  he  gave  his  thought  to 
devising  means  of  transferring  the  widow's  cause  to  the 
federal  court.  The  removal  of  causes  from  state  to  fed 
eral  courts  was,  Warry  frequently  said,  one  of  the 
best  things  he  did. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

JAMES   WHEATON  MAKES  A  COMPUTATION 

Porter's  vacation  was  not  altogether  wasted.  As  he 
lounged  about  and  philosophized  to  the  Bostonians  on 
Western  business  conditions,  his  restless  mind  took 
hold  of  a  new  project.  It  was  suggested  to  him  by 
the  inquiries  of  a  Boston  banker,  who  owned  a  con 
siderable  amount  of  Clarkson  Traction  bonds  and 
stock  which  he  was  anxious  to  sell.  Porter  gave  a 
discouraging  account  of  the  company,  whose  history  he 
knew  thoroughly.  The  Traction  Company  had  been 
organized  in  the  boom  days  and  its  stock  had  been  in 
flated  in  keeping  with  the  prevailing  spirit  of  the  time. 
It  was  first  equipped  with  the  cable  system  in  defer 
ence  to  the  Clarkson  hills,  but  later  the  company  made 
the  introduction  of  the  trolley  an  excuse  for  a  reor 
ganization  of  its  finances  with  an  even  more  generous 
inflation.  The  panic  then  descended  and  wrought  a 
diminution  of  revenue;  the  company  was  unable  to 
make  the  repairs  which  constantly  became  necessary, 
and  the  local  management  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  series 
of  corrupt  directorates. 

There  had  been  much  litigation,  and  some  of  the 
Eastern  bondholders  had  threatened  a  receivership ;  but 
the  local  stockholders  made  plausible  excuses  for  the 


242  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

default  of  interest  when  approached  amicably,  and  when 
menaced  grew  insolent  and  promised  trouble  if  an  at 
tempt  were  made  to  deprive  them  of  power.  A  secre 
tary  and  a  treasurer  under  one  administration  had  con 
nived  to  appropriate  a  large  share  of  the  daily  cash, 
receipts,  and  before  they  left  the  office  they  destroyed 
or  concealed  the  books  and  records  of  the  company.  The 
effect  of  this  was  to  create  a  mystery  as  to  the  distribu 
tion  of  the  bonds  and  the  stock.  When  Porter  came 
home  from  his  summer  vacation,  the  newspapers  were 
demanding  that  steps  be  taken  to  declare  the  Traction 
franchise  forfeit.  But  the  franchise  had  been  renewed 
lately  and  had  twenty  years  to  run.  This  extension  had 
been  procured  by  the  element  in  control,  and  the  foreign 
bondholders,  biding  their  time,  were  glad  to  avail  them 
selves  of  the  political  skill  of  the  local  officers. 

Porter  had  been  casually  asked  by  his  Boston  friend 
whether  there  was  any  local  market  for  the  stock  or 
bonds;  and  he  had  answered  that  there  was  not;  that 
the  holders  of  shares  in  Clarkson  kept  what  they  had 
because  they  could  no  longer  sell  to  one  another  and  that 
they  were  only  waiting  for  the  larger  outside  bondholders 
and  shareholders  to  assert  themselves.  Porter  had  rid 
den  down  to  Boston  with  his  brother  banker  and  when 
they  parted  it  was  with  an  understanding  that  the 
Bostonian  was  to  collect  for  Porter  the  Clarkson  Trac 
tion  securities  that  were  held  by  New  England  banks, 
a  considerable  amount,  as  Porter  knew;  and  he  went 
home  with  a  well-formed  plan  of  buying  the  control 
of  the  company.  Times  were  improving  and  he  had 
faith  in  Clarkson's  future;  he  did  not  believe  in  it  so 
noisily  as  Timothy  Margrave  did;  but  he  knew  the 


WHEATON  MAKES  A  COMPUTATION    243 

resources  of  the  tributary  country,  and  he  had,  what 
all  successful  business  men  must  have,  an  alert  imagina 
tion. 

It  was  not  necessary  for  Porter  to  disclose  the  fact 
of  his  purchases  to  the  officers  of  the  Traction  Com 
pany,  whom  he  knew  to  be  corrupt  and  vicious;  the 
transfer  of  ownership  on  the  company's  books  made  no 
difference,  as  the  original  stock  books  had  been  de 
stroyed, — a  fact  which  had  become  public  property 
through  a  legal  effort  to  levy  on  the  holdings  of  a 
shareholder  in  the  interest  of  a  creditor.  Moreover, 
if  he  could  help  it,  Porter  never  told  any  one  about 
anything  he  did.  He  even  had  several  dummies  in 
whose  names  he  frequently  held  securities  and  real 
estate.  One  of  these  was  Peckham,  a  clerk  in  the  office 
of  Fenton,  Porter's  lawyer. 

Wheaton  had  not  long  been  an  officer  of  the  bank 
before  he  began  to  be  aware  that  there  was  considerable 
mystery  about  Porter's  outside  transactions.  Porter 
occasionally  perused  with  much  interest  several  small 
memorandum  books  which  he  kept  carefully  locked  in 
his  desk.  The  president  often  wrote  letters  with  his 
own  hand  and  copied  them  himself  after  bank  hours,  in 
a  private  letter-book.  Wheaton  was  naturally  curious 
as  to  what  these  outside  interests  might  be.  It  had 
piqued  him  to  find  that  while  he  was  cashier  of  the 
bank  he  was  not  consulted  in  its  larger  transactions; 
and  that  of  Porter's  personal  affairs  he  knew  nothing. 

One  afternoon  shortly  after  Porter's  return  from  the 
East,  Wheaton,  who  was  waiting  for  some  letters  to  sign, 
picked  up  a  bundle  of  checks  from  the  desk  of  one  of 
the  individual  bookkeepers.  They  were  Porter's  personal 


244  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

checks  which  had  that  day  been  paid  and  were  now  be 
ing  charged  to  his  private  account.  Wheaton  turned 
them  over  mechanically;  it  was  not  very  long  since  he 
had  been  an  individual  bookkeeper  himself;  he  had 
entered  innumerable  checks  bearing  Porter's  name  with 
out  giving  them  a  thought.  As  the  slips  of  paper  passed 
through  his  fingers,  he  accounted  for  them  in  one  way 
or  another  and  put  them  back  on  the  desk,  face  down, 
as  a  man  always  does  who  has  been  trained  as  a  bank 
clerk.  The  last  of  them  he  held  and  studied.  It  was 
a  check  made  payable  to  Peckham,  Fenton's  clerk.  The 
amount  was  $9,999.00, — too  large  to  be  accounted  for  as 
a  payment  for  services;  for  Peckham  was  an  elderly 
failure  at  the  law  who  ran  errands  to  the  courts  for 
Fenton  and  sometimes  took  charge  of  small  collection 
matters  for  the  bank.  Wheaton  paid  the  attorney  fees 
for  the  bank;  this  check  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
bank,  he  was  sure.  The  check,  with  its  curious  combi 
nation  of  figures,  puzzled  and  fascinated  him. 

A  few  days  later,  in  the  course  of  business,  he  asked 
Porter  what  disposition  he  should  make  of  an  applica 
tion  for  a  loan  from  a  country  customer.  Porter  rang 
for  the  past  correspondence  with  their  client,  and  threw 
several  letters  to  Wheaton  for  his  information.  Wheaton 
read  them  and  called  the  stenographer  to  dictate  the 
answer  which  Porter  had  indicated  should  be  made. 
He  held  the  client's  last  letter  in  his  hand,  and  in 
concluding  turned  it  over  into  the  wire  basket  which 
stood  on  his  desk.  As  it  fell  face  downwards  his  eye 
caught  some  figures  on  the  back,  and  he  picked  it  up 
thinking  that  they  might  relate  to  the  letter.  The 


WHEATON  MAKES  A  COMPUTATION    245 

memorandum  was  in  Porter's  large  uneven  hand  and 
read: 

303 
33 

909 
909 

9999 

The  result  of  the  multiplication  was  identical  with 
the  amount  of  Peckham's  check.  Again  the  figures  held 
his  attention.  Local  securities  were  quoted  daily  in  the 
newspapers,  and  he  examined  the  list  for  that  day. 
There  was  no  quotation  of  thirty-three  on  anything; 
the  nearest  approach  was  Clarkson  Traction  Company 
at  thirty-five.  The  check  which  had  interested  him  had 
been  dated  three  days  before,,  and  he  looked  back  to  the 
quotation  list  for  that  date.  Traction  was  given  <at 
thirty-three.  Wheaton  was  pleased  by  the  discovery; 
it  was  a  fair  assumption  that  Porter  was  buying  shares 
of  Clarkson  Traction;  he  would  hardly  be  buying  for 
eign  securities  through  Peckham.  The  stock  had  ad 
vanced  two  points  since  it  had  been  purchased,,  and  this, 
too,  was  interesting.  Clearly,  Porter  knew  what  he  was 
about, — he  had  a  reputation  for  knowing;  and  if  Clark- 
son  Traction  was  a  good  thing  for  the  president  to  pick 
up  quietly,  why  was  it  not  a  good  thing  for  the  cashier  ? 
He  waited  a  day;  Traction  went  to  thirty-six.  Then 
he  called  after  banking  hours  at  the  office  of  a  real 
estate  dealer  who  also  dealt  in  local  stocks  and  bonds  on 
a  small  scale.  He  chose  this  man  because  he  was  not  a 
customer  of  the  bank,  and  had  never  had  any  trans 
actions  with  the  bank  or  with  Porter,  so  far  as  Wheaton 


246  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

knew.  His  name  was  Burton,  and  he  welcomed  Whea- 
ton  cordially.  He  was  alone  in  his  office,  and  after  an 
interchange  of  courtesies,  Wheaton  came  directly  to  the 
point  of  his  errand. 

"Some  friends  of  mine  in  the  country  own  a  small 
amount  .of  Traction  stock;  they've  written  me  to  find 
out  what  its  prospects  are.  Of  course  in  the  hank  we 
know  in  a  general  way  about  it,  but  I  suppose  you  handle 
such  things  and  I  want  to  get  good  advice  for  my 
friends/' 

"Well,  the  truth  is,"  said  Burton,  flattered  by  this 
appeal,  "the  bottom  was  pretty  well  gone  out  of  it,  but 
it's  sprucing  up  a  little  just  now.  If  the  charter's 
knocked  out  it  is  only  worth  so  much  a  pound  as  old 
paper;  but  if  the  right  people  get  hold  of  it  the  news 
papers  will  let  up,  and  there's  a  big  thing  in  it.  How 
much  do  your  friends  own?" 

"I  don't  know  exactly,"  said  Wheaton,  evenly;  "I 
think  not  a  great  deal.  Who  are  buying  just  now?  I 
notice  that  it  has  been  advancing  for  several  clays.  Some 
one  seems  to  be  forcing  up  the  price." 

"Nobody  in  particular,  that  is,  nobody  that  I  know 
of.  I  asked  Billy  Barnes,  the  secretary,  the  other  day 
what  was  going  on.  He  must  know  who  the  certificates 
are  made  out  to ;  but  he  winked  and  gave  me  the  laugh. 
You  know  Barnes.  He  don't  cough  up  very  easy;  and 
he  looks  wise  when  he  doesn't  know  anything." 

"Xo ;  Barnes  has  the  reputation  of  being  pretty  close- 
mouthed,"  replied  Wheaton. 

"If  your  friends  want  to  sell,  bring  in  the  shares  and 
I'll  see  what  I  can  do  with  them,"  said  Burton.  "The 
outsiders  are  sure  to  act  soon.  This  spurt  right  now 


WHEATON  MAKES  A  COMPUTATION    2-ti 

may  have  nothing  back  of  it.  The  town's  full  of  gossip 
about  the  company  and  it  ought  to  send  the  price  down. 
Your  friend  Porter's  a  smooth  one.  He  was  in  once, 
a  long  time  ago,  but  he  knew  when  to  get  out  all  right." 
\Vheaton  laughed  with  Burton  at  this  tribute  to  Porter's 
sagacity,  but  he  laughed  discreetly.  He  did  not  forget 
that  he  was  a  bank  officer  and  dignity  was  an  essential 
in  the  business,  as  he  understood  it. 

Within  a  few  days  two  more  checks  from  Porter  to 
Peckham  passed  through  the  usual  channels  of  the  bank. 
By  the  simple  feat  of  dividing  the  amount  of  each  check 
by  the  current  quotation  on  Traction,  Wheaton  was  able 
to  follow  Porter's  purchases.  The  price  had  remained 
pretty  steady.  Then  suddenly  it  fell  to  thirty.  He 
wondered  what  was  happening,  but  the  newspapers, 
which  were  continuing  their  war  on  the  company,  read 
ily  attributed  it  to  a  lack  of  confidence  in  the  franchise. 
Wheaton  met  the  broker,  apparently  by  chance,  but  really 
by  intention,  in  the  club  one  evening,  and  remarked 
casually : 

"Traction  seems  to  be  off  a  little  ?" 

"Yes;  there's  something  going  on  there  that  I  can't 
make  out.  I  imagine  that  the  fellows  that  were  buying 
got  tired  of  stimulating  the  market,  and  have  thrown  a 
few  bunches  back  to  keep  the  outsiders  guessing." 

"Eight  now  might  be  a  good  time  to  get  in,"  sug 
gested  Wheaton. 

"I  should  call  it  a  good  buy  myself.  I  guess  that 
franchise  is  all  right.  Better  pick  up  a  little,"  he  said, 
tentatively. 

"To  tell  the  truth,"  said  Wheaton,  choosing  His  words 
carefully,  "those  out  of  town  people  I  spoke  to  you  about 


248  .     THE  MAIN"  CHANCE 

have  written  me  that  they'd  like  a  little  more,  if  it  can 
be  got  at  the  right  figure.  You  might  pick  up  a  hun 
dred  shares  for  me  at  the  current  price,  if  you  can." 

"How  do  you  want  to  hold  it?" 

"Have  it  made  to  me,"  he  answered.  He  had  debated 
whether  he  should  do  this,  and  he  had  been  unable  to 
devise  any  method  of  holding  the  stock  without  letting 
his  own  name  appear.  Porter  would  not  know;  Porter 
was  concealing  his  own  purchases.  Wheaton  could  not 
see  that  it  made  any  difference;  he  was  surely  entitled 
to  invest  his  money  as  he  liked,  and  he  raised  the  sum 
necessary  in  this  case  by  the  sale  of  some  railroad  bonds 
which  he  had  been  holding,  and  on  which  he  could 
realize  at  once  by  sending  them  to  the  bank's  corre 
spondent  at  Chicago.  He  might  have  sold  them  at 
home;  Porter  would  probably  have  taken  them  off  his 
hands;  but  the  president  knew  that  his  capital  was 
small,  and  might  have  asked  how  he  intended  to  reinvest 
the  proceeds. 

"Of  course  this  is  all  confidential/'  said  Wheaton. 

"Sure,"  said  Burton. 

"And  when  you  get  it,  telephone  me  and  I'll  come  up 
and  settle,"  said  Wheaton. 

A  few  days  later  Burton  sent  for  Wheaton  to  come  to 
his  office.  One  hundred  shares  had  been  secured  from 
a  ranchman.  Wheaton  carried  the  purchase  money  in 
currency  to  Burton's  office;  he  was  as  shrewd  as  Wil 
liam  Porter,  and  he  did  not  care  to  have  the  clerks  in 
the  bank  speculating  about  his  checks. 

He  locked  his  certificate,  when  Burton  got  it  for  him, 
in  his  private  box  in  the  vault,  and  waited  the  rebound 
which  he  firmly  expected  in  the  price  of  the  stock.  His 


WHEATON  MAKES  A  COMPUTATION    249 

sole  idea  was  to  make  a  profit  by  the  purchase.  He  felt 
perfectly  confident  that  Porter  had  bought  Traction 
stock  with  a  definite  purpose ;  he  still  had  no  idea  who 
were  the  principal  holders  of  Traction  stock  or  bonds, 
and  he  was  afraid  to  make  inquiry.  A  man  who  was  as 
secretive  as  Porter  probably  had  confidential  sources  of 
information,,  and  it  was  not  safe  to  tap  Porter's  wires. 
His  conscience  was  easy  as  to  the  method  by  which  he 
had  gained  his  knowledge  of  Porter's  purchases;  he 
certainly  meant  no  harm  to  Porter. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AN  ANNUAL  PASS 

Timothy  Margrave  was,  in  common  phrase,  a  good 
railroad  man.  He  had  advanced  by  slow  degrees  from 
the  incumbency  of  those  lowly  manual  offices  called  jobs, 
to  the  performance  of  those  nobler  functions  known  as 
positions.  Margrave's  elevation  to  the  office  of  third 
vice-president  and  general  manager  was  due  to  his  Pull. 
This  was  originally  political  but  later  financial ;  and  he 
now  had  both  kinds  of  Pulls.  There  is  no  greater  arro 
gance  among  us  than  that  of  our  railway  officials ;  they 
are  greater  tyrants  than  any  that  sit  in  public  office. 
The  General  Something  or  Other  is  a  despot,  the  records 
of  whose  life  are  written  in  tissue  manifold;  his  ideals 
are  established  for  him  by  those  of  his  own  order  who 
have  been  raised  to  a  higher  power,  which  he  himself 
aspires  to  reach  in  due  season.  Margrave  had  gone  as 
high  as  he  expected  to  go  with  the  corporation  whose 
destinies  he  had  done  so  much  to  promote ;  all  who  were 
below  him  in  the  Transcontinental  knew  that  he  held 
their  lives  in  his  hands;  all  his  subordinates,  down  to 
the  boys  who  carried  long  manila  envelopes  marked 
R.  R.  B.  to  and  from  trains  called  him  IT. 

Margrave  had  resolved  that  the  railroad  was  get 
ting  too  much  out  of  him  and  that  he  must  do  more  to 

250 


AN  ANNUAL  PASS  251 

promote  his  own  fortunes.  The  directors  were  good  fel 
lows,  and  they  had  certainly  treated  him  well;  but  it 
seemed  within  the  pale  of  legitimate  enterprise  for  him 
to  broaden  his  interests  a  trifle  without  in  any  wise 
diminishing  his  zeal  for  the  Transcontinental.  The 
street  railway  business  was  a  good  business,  and  Clarkson 
Traction  appealed  to  Margrave,  moreover,  on  its  political 
side.  If  he  reorganized  the  company  and  made  himself 
its  president  he  could  greatly  fortify  and  strengthen  his 
Pull.  Tim  Margrave's  Pull  was  already  of  consequence 
and  it  would  be  of  great  use  in  this  new  undertaking; 
moreover,  it  would  naturally  be  augmented  by  his  con 
trol  of  the  little  army  of  Traction  employees.  He  pro 
posed  getting  some  of  the  Eastern  stockholders  of  the 
Transcontinental  to  help  him  acquire  Traction  holdings 
sufficient  to  get  control  of  the  company;  and,  with 
Margrave,  to  decide  was  to  act. 

Almost  any  day,  he  was  told,  the  Eastern  bondholders 
might  pounce  down  and  put  a  receiver  in  charge  of  the 
company.  Margrave  did  not  understand  receiverships 
according  to  High  or  Beach  or  any  other  legal  authority ; 
but  according  to  Margrave  they  were  an  excuse  for  pil 
lage,  and  it  was  a  regret  of  his  life  that  no  fat  receiver 
ship  had  ever  fallen  to  his  lot.  But  he  was  not  going 
into  Traction  blindly.  He  wanted  to  know  who  else 
was  interested,  that  he  might  avoid  complications.  Wil 
liam  Porter  was  the  only  man  in  Clarkson  who  could 
swing  Traction  without  assistance;  he  must  not  run 
afoul  of  Porter.  Margrave  was  a  master  of  the  art  of 
getting  information,  and  he  decided,  On  reflection,  that 
the  easiest  way  to  get  information  about  Porter  was  to 
coax  it  out  of  Wheaton. 


252  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

He  always  called  Wheaton  "Jim,"  in  remembrance  of 
those  early  days  of  Wheaton's  residence  in  Clarkson 
when  Wheaton  had  worked  in  his  office.  He  had  watched 
Wheaton's  rise  with  interest;  he  took  to  himself  the 
credit  of  being  his  discoverer.  When  Wheaton  called 
on  his  daughter  he  made  no  comment ;  he  knew  nothing 
to  Wheaton's  discredit,  and  he  would  no  more  have 
thought  of  criticizing  Mabel  than  of  ordering  dynamite 
substituted  for  coal  in  the  locomotives  of  his  railroad. 
When  he  concluded  that  he  needed  Wheaton,  he  began 
playing  for  him,  just  as  if  the  cashier  had  been  a 
councilman  or  a  member  of  the  legislature  or  a  large 
shipper  or  any  other  fair  prey. 

He  had  unconsciously  made  a  good  beginning  by 
making  Wheaton  the  King  of  the  Carnival;  he  now 
resorted  to  that  most  insidious  and  economical  form  of 
bribery  known  as  the  annual  pass. 

One  of  these  pretty  bits  of  pasteboard  was  at  once 
mailed  to  Wheaton  by  the  Second  Assistant  General 
Something  on  Margrave's  recommendation. 

Wheaton  accepted  the  pass  as  a  tribute  to  his  grow 
ing  prominence  in  the  town.  He  knew  that  Porter  re 
fused  railroad  passes  on  practical  grounds,  holding  that 
such  favors  were  extended  in  the  hope  of  reciprocal 
compliments,  and  he  believed  that  a  banker  was  better 
off  without  them.  Wheaton,  whose  vanity  had  been 
touched,  could  see  no  harm  in  them.  He  had  little  use 
for  passes  as  he  knew  and  cared  little  about  traveling, 
but  he  had  always  envied  men  who  carried  their  "an 
nuals"  in  little  brass-bound  books  made  for  the  purpose. 
To  be  sure  it  was  late  in  the  year  and  passes  were  usually 
sent  out  in  January,  but  this  made  the  compliment  seem 


AN  ANNUAL  PASS  253 

much  more  direct;  the  Transcontinental  had  forgotten 
him,  and  had  thought  it  well  to  rectify  the  error  between 
seasons.  He  felt  that  he  must  not  make  too  much  of  the 
railroad's  courtesy ;  he  did  not  know  to  which  official  in 
particular  he  was  indebted,  but  he  ran  into  Margrave 
one  evening  at  the  club  and  decided  to  thank  him. 

"How's  traffic?"  he  asked,  as  Margrave  made  room 
for  him  on  the  settee  where  he  sat  reading  the  evening 
paper. 

"Fair.    Anything  new  ?" 

"No;  it's  the  same  routine  with  me  pretty  much  all 
the  time." 

"I  guess  that's  right.  I  shouldn't  think  there  was 
much  fun  in  banking.  You  got  to  keep  the  public  too 
far  away.  I  like  to  be  up  against  people  myself." 

"Banking  is  hardly  a  sociable  business/'  sa'id  Wheaton. 

"No;  a  good  banker's  got  to  have  cold  feet,  as  the 
fellow  said." 

"But  you  railroad  people  are  not  considered  so  very 
warm/'  said  Wheaton.  "The  fellows  who  want  favors 
seem  to  think  so.  By  the  way,  I'm  much  obliged  to 
some  one  for  an  annual  that  turned  up  in  my  mail  the 
other  day.  I  don't  know  who  sent  it  to  me, — if  it's 
you—"  " 

"Urn  ?"  Margrave  affected  to  have  been  wandering  in 
his  thoughts,  but  this  was  what  he  was  waiting  for. 
"Oh,  I  guess  that  was  Wilson.  I  never  fool  with  the 
pass  business  myself;  I've  got  troubles  of  my  own." 

"I  guess  I'll  not  use  it  very  often,"  said  Wheaton,  as 
if  he  owed  an  apology  to  the  road  for  accepting  it. 

"Better  come  out  with  me  in  the  car  sometime  and 


254  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

see  the  road,"  Margrave  suggested,  throwing  his  news 
paper  on  the  table. 

"I'd  like  that  very  much/'  said  Wheaton. 

"Where's  Thompson  now?  Old  man's  pretty  well 
done  up,  ain't  he  ?" 

"He  went  back  to  Arizona.  He  was  here  at  work  all 
summer.  He's  afraid  of  our  winters." 

"Well,  that  gives  you  your  chance,"  said  Margrave, 
affably.  "There  ain't  any  young  man  in  town  that's  got 
a  better  chance  than  you  have,  Jim." 

"I  know  that,"  said  Wheaton,  humbly. 

"You  don't  go  in  much  on  the  outside,  do  you?  I 
suppose  you  don't  have  much  time." 

"No;  I'm  held  down  pretty  close;  and  in  a  bank 
you  can't  go  into  everything." 

"Well,  there's  nothing  like  keeping  an  eye  out.  Good 
things  are  not  so  terribly  common  these  days."  Mar 
grave  got  up  and  walked  the  floor  once  or  twice,  ap 
parently  in  a  musing  humor,  but  he  really  wished  to 
look  into  the  adjoining  room  to  make  sure  they  were 
alone. 

"I  believe,"  he  said,  with  emphasis  on  the  pronoun, 
"there's  going  to  be  a  good  thing  for  some  one  in  Trac 
tion  stock.  Porter  ought  to  let  you  in  on  that."  Mar 
grave  didn't  know  that  Porter  was  in,  but  he  expected  to 
find  out. 

"Mr.  Porter  has  a  way  of  keeping  things  to  himself," 
said  Wheaton,  cautiously ;  yet  he  was  flattered  by  Mar 
grave's  friendliness,  and  anxious  to  make  a  favorable 
impression.  Vanity  is  not,  as  is  usually  assumed,  a  mere 
incident  of  character;  it  is  a  disease. 


AN  ANNUAL  PASS  255 

"I  suppose,"  said  Margrave,  "that  a  man  could  buy 
a  barrel  of  that  stuff  just  now  at  a  low  figure." 

Wheaton  could  not  resist  this  opportunity. 

"What  I  have,  I  got  at  thirty-one,"  he  answered,  as  if 
it  wore  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  for  him  to 
have  Traction  stock.  This  was  not  a  bank  confidence; 
there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  not  talk  of  his  own 
investments  if  he  wished  to  do  so. 

Margrave  had  reseated  himself,  and  lounged  on  the 
settee  with  a  confidential  air  that  he  had  found  very 
effective  in  the  committee  rooms  at  the  state  capital 
when  it  was  necessary  to  deal  with  a  difficult  legislator. 

"I  suppose  Porter  must  have  got  in  lower  than  that," 
he  said,  carelessly.  "Billy  usually  gets  in  on  the  ground 
floor."  He  chuckled  to  himself  in  admiration  of  the 
banker's  shrewdness.  "But  a  fellow  can  do  what  he 
pleases  when  he's  got  money.  Most  of  us  see  good  things 
and  can't  go  into  the  market  after  'em." 

"What's  your  guess  as  to  the  turn  this  Traction  busi 
ness  will  take  ?"  asked  Wheaton.  He  had  not  expected 
an  opportunity  to  talk  to  any  one  of  Margrave's  stand 
ing  on  this  subject,  and  he  thought  he  would  get  some 
information  while  the  opportunity  offered. 

"Don't  ask  me!  If  I  knew  I'd  like  to  get  into  the 
game.  But,  look  here" — he  moved  his  fat  body  a  little 
nearer  to  Wheaton — "the  way  to  go  into  that  thing  is 
to  go  into  it  big!  I've  had  my  eye  on  it  for  a  good 
while,  but  I  ain't  going  to  touch  it  unless  I  can  swing 
it  all.  Now,  you  know  Porter,  and  I  know  him,  and 
you  can  bet  your  last  dollar  he'll  never  be  able  to  handle 
it.  He  ain't  built  for  it !"  His  voice  sank  to  a  whisper. 
"But  if  I  decide  to  go  in,  I've  got  to  get  rid  of  Porter. 


256  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

Me  and  Porter  can't  travel  in  the  same  harness.  You 
know  that;"  he  added,,  pleadingly,  as  if  there  were  the 
bitterness  of  years  of  controversy  in  his  relations  with 
Porter. 

Wheaton  nodded  sympathetically. 

"Now,  I  don't  know  how  much  he's  got" — this  in  an 
angry  tone,  as  if  Porter  were  guilty  of  some  grave 
offense  against  him — "and  he's  so  damned  mysterious 
you  can't  tell  what  he's  up  to.  You  know  how  he  is; 
you  can't  go  to  a  fellow  like  that  and  do  business  with 
him,  and  he  won't  play  anyhow,  unless  you  play  his 
way." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  anything  about  his  affairs,  of 
course,"  said  Wheaton,  yet  feeling  that  Margrave's  con 
fidences  must  be  reciprocated.  "Just  between  ourselves," 
—he  waited  for  Margrave  to  nod  and  grunt  in  his  solemn 
way — "he  did  buy  a  little  some  time  ago,  but  no  great 
amount.  It  would  take  a  good  deal  of  money  to  control 
that  company." 

"You're  dead  right,  it  would;  and  Porter  hasn't  any 
business  fooling  with  it.  You've  got  to  syndicate  a  thing 
like  that.  He's  probably  got  a  tip  from  some  one  of  his 
Eastern  friends  as  to  what  they're  going  to  do,  and  he's 
buying  in,  when  he  can,  to  get  next.  But  say,  he  hasn't 
any  Traction  bonds,  has  he  ?" 

Wheaton  had  already  said  more  than  he  had  intended, 
and  repented  now  that  he  had  been  drawn  into  this 
conversation;  but  Margrave  was  bending  toward  him 
with  a  great  air  of  condescending  intimacy.  Porter 
had  never  been  confidential  with  him ;  and  it  was  really 
Margrave  who  had  given  him  his  start. 

"I  don't  think  so ;  at  least  I  never  knew  cf  it."    His 


AN  ANNUAL  PASS  257 

mind  was  on  those  checks  to  Peckham,  which  clearly 
represented  purchases  of  stock.  Of  course,  Porter  might 
have  bonds,  too,  but  having  gone  thus  far  he  did  not  like 
to  admit  to  Margrave  how  little  he  really  knew  of  Por 
ter's  doings.  Margrave  was  puffing  solemnly  at  his 
cigar,  and  changed  the  subject.  When  he  rose  to  go 
and  stood  stamping  down  his  trousers,  which  were  for 
ever  climbing  up  his  fat  legs  when  he  sat,  Wheaton  felt 
an  impulse  to  correct  any  false  impressions  which  he 
might  have  given  Margrave;  but  he  was  afraid  to  try 
this.  He  would  discredit  himself  with  Margrave  by 
doing  so.  He  had  not  intended  to  leave  so  early,  but  he 
hated  to  let  go  of  Margrave,  and  he  followed  him  into 
the  coat  room. 

"That's  all  between  us — that  little  matter,"  said  Mar 
grave,  as  they  were  helped  into  their  coats  by  the  sleepy 
colored  boy.  Wheaton  wanted  to  say  this  himself,  but 
Margrave  saved  him  the  trouble. 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Margrave/5 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

WILLIAM  PORTER  RETURNS  FROM  A  JOURNEY 

Porter  went  into  Fenton's  private  office  and  shut  and 
locked  the  door  after  him.  He  always  did  this,  and 
Fenton,  who  humored  his  best  client's  whims  perforce, 
pushed  back  the  law  book  which  he  was  reading  and 
straightened  the  pens  on  his  blotter. 

"I  didn't  expect  you  back  so  soon/'  he  said.  Porter 
looked  tired  and  there  were  dark  rings  under  his  eyes. 

"Short  horse  soon  curried/'  he  remarked,  pulling  a 
packet  from  his  overcoat. 

There  was  something  boyish  in  Porter's  mysterious 
methods,  which  always  amused  Fenton  when  they  did 
not  alarm  and  exasperate  him. 

Porter  sat  down  at  a  long  table  and  the  lawyer  drew 
up  a  chair  opposite  him. 

"Which  way  have  you  been  this  time  ?" 

"Down  in  the  country,"  returned  Porter,  indefinitely. 

Fenton  laughed  and  watched  his  client  pulling  the 
rubber  bands  from  his  package. 

"What  have  you  there — oats  or  wheat?" 

"What  I  have  here,"  said  Porter,  straightening  out  the 
crisp  papers  he  had  taken  from  his  bundle,  "is  a  few 
shares  of  Clarkson  Traction  stock." 

"Oh !"  Fenton  picked  up  a  ruler  and  played  with  it 
258 


PORTER  RETURNS  FROM  A  JOURNEY  259 

until  Porter  had  finished  counting  and  smoothing  the 
stock  certificates. 

"There  you  are/'  said  the  banker,  passing  the  papers 
over  to  Fenton.  "See  if  they're  all  right." 

Fenton  compared  the  names  on  the  face  of  the  cer 
tificates  with  the  assignments  on  the  back,  while  Porter 
watched  him  and  played  with  a  rubber  band. 

"The  assignments  are  all  straight/'  said  Fenton, 
finally. 

He  sat  waiting  and  his  silence  irritated  Porter,  who 
reached  across  and  took  up  the  certificates  again. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you  a  little  about  Traction." 

"All  right,  sir/'  said  Fenton,  respectfully. 

"I've  gone  in  for  that  pretty  deep  this  fall." 

Fenton  nodded  gravely.    He  felt  trouble  in  the  air. 

"I  started  in  on  this  down  East  last  summer.  Those 
bonds  all  went  East,  but  a  lot  of  the  stock  was  kicked 
around  out  here.  If  I  get  enough  and  reorganize  the 
company  I  can  handle  the  new  securities  down  East  all 
right.  That's  business.  Now,  I've  been  gathering  in  the 
stock  around  here  on  the  quiet,  Peckham's  been  buying 
some  for  me,  and  he's  assigned  it  in  blank.  There's  no 
use  in  getting  new  shares  issued  until  we're  ready  to  act, 
for  Barnes  and  those  fellows  are  not  above  doing  some 
thing  nasty  if  they  think  they're  going  to  lose  their 
jobs." 

"The  original  stock  issue  was  five  thousand  shares/' 
said  Fenton.  "How  much  have  you?" 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Porter,  "I've  got  about  half  and  I'm 
looking  for  a  few  shares  more  right  now." 

Fenton  picked  up  his   ruler    again    and    beat    his 


260  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

knuckles  with  it.  Porter  had  "expected  Fenton  to  lec 
ture  him  sharply,  but  the  lawyer  was  ominously  quiet. 

"I'm  free  to  confess,"  said  Fenton,  "that  I'm  sorry 
you've  gone  into  this.  This  isn't  the  kind  of  thing  that 
you're  in  the  habit  of  going  into.  I  am  not  much  taken 
with  the  idea  of  mixing  up  in  a  corporation  that  has  as 
disreputable  a  record  as  the  Traction  Company.  It's 
been  mismanaged  and  robbed  until  there's  not  much  left 
for  an  honest  man  to  take  hold  of ;  they  issue  no  state 
ments;  no  one  of  any  responsibility  has  been  connected 
with  it  for  a  long  time.  The  outside  stockholders  are 
scattered  all  over  the  country,  and  most  of  them  have 
quit  trying  to  enforce  their  rights,  if  they  may  be  said 
to  have  any  rights.  You  remember  that  the  last  time 
they  went  into  court  they  were  knocked  out  and  I'm  free 
to  say  that  I  don't  want  to  have  to  go  into  any  litigation 
against  the  company." 

"Yes,  but  the  franchise  is  all  straight,  ain't  it?" 

"Probably  it  is  all  right,"  admitted  the  lawyer  re 
luctantly,  "but  that  isn't  the  whole  story  by  any  manner 
of  means.  If  it's  known  that  you're  picking  up  the  stock, 
every  fellow  that  has  any  will  soak  you  good  and  hard 
before  he  parts  with  it.  Now,  there  are  the  bond 
holders—" 

"Well,  what  can  the  bondholders  do?"  demanded 
Porter. 

"Oh,  get  a  receiver  and  have  a  lot  of  fun.  You  may 
expect  that  at  any  time,  too.  Those  Eastern  fellows  are 
slow  sometimes,  but  they  generally  know  what  they're 
about." 

"Yes,  but  if  they  weren't  Eastern  fellows — " 

"Oh,  a  bondholder's  rights  are  as  good  one  place  as 


POSTER  RETURNS  FROM  A  JOURNEY  261 

another.  Those  suits  are  usually  brought  in  the  name 
of  the  trustee  in  their  behalf." 

"Now,  do  you  know  what  I'm  going  to  do  ?"  demanded 
Porter,  settling  back  in  his  chair  and  placing  his  feet 
on  Fenton's  table.  "I'm  going  to  turn  up  at  the  next 
annual  meeting  and  clean  this  thing  out.  You  don't 
think  it's  any  good;  I've  got  faith  in  the  company  c.nd 
in  the  town;  I  believe  it's  going  to  be  a  good  thing. 
This  little  gang  here  that's  been  running  it  has  got  to 
go.  I've  dug  up  some  stock  here  that  everybody  thought 
was  lost.  At  the  last  meeting  only  eight  hundred  out  of 
five  thousand  shares  were  voted." 

Fenton  frowned  and  continued  to  punish  himself  with 
the  ruler. 

"You  beat  me!  You  haven't  the  slightest  idea  who 
the  other  shareholders  are;  the  company  is  thoroughly 
rotten  in  all  its  past  history,  and  here  you  go  plunging 
into  it  up  to  your  eyes.  And  they  say  you're  the  most 
conservative  banker  on  the  river." 

"I  guess  you  don't  have  to  get  me  out  of  many 
scrapes,"  said  Porter,  doggedly. 

"When's  the  annual  meeting?"  asked  Fenton,  sud 
denly. 

"It's  day  after  to-morrow — a  close  call,  but  I'll  make 
it  all  right," 

Fenton  threw  down  his  ruler  impatiently. 

"Mr.  Porter,  I  want  you  to  remember  that  I  haven't 
given  you  any  advice  at  all  in  this  matter.  It's  an  extra 
hazardous  thing  that  you're  doing.  Now,  I  don't  know 
anything  definitely  about  it,  but — I've  got  the  impression 
that  Margrave's  paralleling  your  lines  in  this  business." 
Porter  brought  his  feet  down  with  a  crash. 


262  THE  MAIN"  CHANCE 

"Where'd  you  get  that  ?" 

"It's  this  way/'  said  Fenton,  in  his  quietest  tones. 
"A  Baltimore  lawyer  that  I  know  wrote  me  a  letter, — I 
just  got  it  this  morning, — asking  me  about  Margrave's 
responsibility.  It  seems  that  my  friend  has  a  client  who 
owns  some  of  these  shares.  A  good  deal  of  that  stock 
went  to  Baltimore  and  Philadelphia,  you  may  remember. 
I  assume  that  Margrave  is  after  it." 

"Wire  your  friend  right  away  not  to  sell, — "  shouted 
Porter,  pounding  the  table  with  his  fist. 

"I  did  that  this  morning,  and  here's  his  answer.  I 
got  it  just  before  you  came  in.  Margrave  evidently  got 
anxious  and  wired  them  to  send  certificates  with  draft 
through  the  Drovers'  National.  They're  probably  on 
the  way  now."  He  passed  the  telegram  across  to 
Porter,  who  put  on  his  glasses  and  read  it. 

"Now,"  continued  Fenton,  "I  don't  know  just  what 
this  means,  but  it  looks  to  me  as  if  Margrave  was  hot  on 
the  track  of  the  trolley  company  himself;  and  Tim 
Margrave  isn't  a  particularly  pleasant  fellow  to  go  into 
business  with,  is  he?" 

"But  the  bondholders  would  still  have  their  chance, 
wouldn't  they,  even  if  he  got  a  majority  of  the  stock  ?" 

"Well,  you  haven't  any  bonds,  have  you  ?  First  thing 
I  know  you'll  be  telling  me  that  you've  got  a  few  barrels 
of  them,"  he  added,  jokingly.  He  could  not  help 
laughing  at  Porter. 

Porter  took  the  cigar  from  his  mouth,  looked  care 
fully  at  the  lighted  end  of  it,  and  said  with  a  casual  air, 
as  if  he  had  a  particularly  decisive  and  conclusive  state 
ment  to  make  and  wished  to  avail  himself  of  its  dra 
matic  possibilities: 


PORTER  RETURNS  FROM  A  JOURNEY  263 

"My  dear  boy,  I've  got  every  blamed  bond !" 

Fenton  sat  gazing  at  him  in  stupefied  wonder. 

"Would  you  mind  saying  that  again  ?"  he  said,  after  a 
full  minute  of  silent  amazement  in  which  he  sat  staring 
at  his  client,  who  was  blowing  rings  of  smoke  with  great 
equanimity. 

"I've  got  all  the  bonds,  was  what  I  said." 

The  lawyer  walked  around  the  table  and  put  his  hand 
on  Porters  shoulder.  He  was  trying  to  keep  from  laugh 
ing,  like  a  parent  who  is  about  to  rebuke  a  child  and 
yet  laughs  at  the  cause  of  its  offense.  Porter  evidently 
thought  that  he  had  done  an  extremely  bright  thing. 

"As  I  understand  you,  you  have  bought  all  of  the 
bonds  and  half  of  the  stock." 

"About  half.    I'm  a  little— just  a  little— short." 

"Will  you  kindly  tell  me  what  you  wanted  with  the 
stock  if  you  had  the  bonds  ?" 

"Well,  I  figured  it  this  way,  that  the  franchise  was 
worth  the  price  I  had  to  pay  for  the  whole  thing,  and  if 
I  had  the  stock  control  I'd  save  the  fuss  of  foreclosing. 
You  lawyers  always  make  a  lot  of  rumpus  about  those 
things,  and  a  receivership  would  prejudice  the  Eastern 
market  when  I  come  to  reorganize  and  sell  out." 

Fenton  lay  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed,  while 
Porter  looked  at  him  a  little  defiantly,  with  his  hat 
tipped  over  his  eyes  and  a  cigar  sticking  in  his  mouth  at 
an  impertinent  angle. 

"You'd  better  finish  your  job  and  make  sure  of  your 
majority,"  said  Fenton.  His  rage  was  rising  now  and 
he  did  not  urge  Porter  to  remain  when  the  banker  got 
up  to  go.  He  was  not  at  all  anxious  to  defend  a  fran- 


THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

chise  which  the  local  courts,  always  sensitive  to  public 
sentiment,  might  set  aside. 

"I'll  see  you  in  the  morning  first  thing/'  said  Porter 
at  the  door,  which  Fenton  opened  for  him.  "I  want  you 
to  go  to  the  meeting  with  me  and  we'll  need  a  day  to 
get  ready." 

The  lawyer  watched  his  client  walk  toward  the  ele 
vator.  It  occurred  to  him  that  Porter's  step  was  losing 
its  elasticity.  While  the  banker  waited  for  the  elevator 
car  he  leaned  wearily  against  the  wire  screen  of  the 
shaft. 

Fenton  swore  quietly  to  himself  for  a  few  minutes 
and  then  sat  down  with  a  copy  of  the  charter  of  the 
Clarkson  Traction  Company  before  him,  and  spent  the 
remainder  of  the  day  studying  it.  He  had  troubled 
much  over  Porter's  secretive  ways,  and  had  labored  to 
shatter  the  dangerous  conceit  which  had  gradually 
grown  up  in  his  client.  Porter  had,  in  fact,  a  contempt 
for  lawyers,  though  he  leaned  on  Fenton  more  than  he 
would  admit.  Fenton,  on  the  other  hand,  was  con 
stantly  fearful  lest  his  client  should  undo  himself  lay 
his  secretive  methods.  He  had  difficulty  in  getting  all 
the  facts  out  of  him  even  when  they  were  imperatively 
required.  On'ce  in  the  trial  of  a  case  for  Porter,  the 
opposing  counsel  made  a  statement  which  Fenton  rose 
in  full  confidence  to  refute.  His  antagonist  reaffirmed 
it,  and  Fenton,  not  doubting  that  he  understood  Porter's 
position  thoroughly,  appealed  to  him  to  deny  the  charge, 
fully  expecting  to  score  an  effective  point  before  the 
court.  To  his  consternation,  Porter  coolly  admitted 
the  truth  of  the  imputation.  But  even  this  incident 
and  Fenton's  importunity  in  every  matter  that  arose 


PORTER  RETURNS  FROM  A  JOURNEY  265 

thereafter  did  not  cure  Porter  of  his  weakness.  He  was 
a  difficult  client,  who  was,  as  Fenton  often  said  to  him 
self,  a  good  deal  harder  to  manage  in  a  lawsuit  than 
the  trial  judge  or  opposing  counsel. 

The  next  morning  Fenton  ,was  at  his  office  early  and 
sent  his  boy  at  once  to  ask  Mr.  Porter  to  come  up.  The 
boy  reported  that  Mr.  Porter  had  not  been  at  the  bank. 
Fenton  went  down  himself  at  ten  o'clock  and  fo-und  the 
president's  desk  closed. 

"Where's  the  boss  ?"  he  demanded. 

"Won't  be  down  this  morning,"  said  Wheaton.  "Miss 
Porter  telephoned  that  he  wasn't  feeling  well,  but  he 
expected  to  be  down  after  luncheon." 


CHAPTER  XXIY 

INTERRUPTED  PLANS 

Porter  had  wakened  that  morning  with  a  pain- 
racked  body  and  the  hot  taste  of  fever  in  his  mouth. 
He  dressed  and  went  downstairs  to  breakfast,  but  left 
the  table  and  returned  to  his  room  to  lie  down. 

"I'll  be  all  right  in  an  hour  or  so ;  I  guess  I've  taken 
cold/'  he  said  to  Evelyn.  At  the  end  of  an  hour  he  was 
shaking  with  a  chill. 

Evelyn  left  him  alone  to  telephone  for  the  doctor  and 
in  her  absence  he  tried  to  rise  and  fainted.  He  was  still 
lying  on  the  floor  when  she  returned.  When  the  doctor 
came  he  found  the  household  in  a  panic,  and  almost 
before  Porter  realized  it,  he  was  hazily  watching  the 
white  cap  of  the  trained  nurse  whom  the  doctor  ordered 
with  his  medicines. 

"Your  father  has  a  fever  of  some  sort/'  he  said  to 
Evelyn.  "It  may  be  only  a  severe  attack  of  malaria; 
but  it's  probably  typhoid.  In  any  event,  there's  nothing 
to  be  alarmed  about.  Mr.  Porter  has  one  of  the  old- 
fashioned  constitutions,"  he  added,  reassuringly,  "and 
there's  nothing  to  fear  for  him." 

Porter  protested  all  the  morning  that  he  would  go  to 
his  office  after  luncheon,  but  the  temperature  line  on  the 
nurse's  chart  climbed  steadily  upward.  He  resented  the 
tyranny  of  the  nurse,  who  moved  about  the  room  with  an 

266 


INTEKKUPTED  PLANS  267 

air  of  having  been  there  always,  and  he  was  impatient 
under  the  efforts  of  Evelyn  to  soothe  him.  The  doctor 
came  again  at  noon.  He  was  of  Porter's  age  and  an  old 
friend;  he  dealt  frankly  with  his  patient  now.  Evelyn 
stood  by  and  listened,  adding  her  own  words  of  plead 
ing  and  cheer;  and  while  the  doctor  gave  instructions 
to  the  nurse  outside,  he  relaxed,  and  let  her  smooth  his 
pillow  and  bathe  his  hot  brow. 

"This  may  be  my  turn  < — "  he  began. 

"Not  by  any  manner  of  means,  father,"  she  broke  in 
with  a  lightness  she  did  not  feel.  It  moved  her  greatly 
to  see  his  weakness. 

"It's  an  unfortunate  time,"  he  said,  "and  there's  some 
thing  you  must  do  for  me.  I've  got  to  see  Wheaton  or 
Fenton.  It's  very  important." 

"But  you  mustn't,  father;  business  can  wait  until 
you're  well  again.  It  will  be  only  a  few  days — " 

"You  mustn't  question  what  I  ask,"  he  went  on  very 
steadily.  "It's  of  great  importance,"  and  she  knew  that 
he  meant  it. 

"Can't  I  see  them  for  you?"  she  asked.  He  turned 
his  slight  lean  body  under  the  covers,  and  shook  his 
head  helplessly  on  his  pillow. 

"You  see  you  can't  talk,  father,"  she  said  very  gently. 
"Is  there  anything  I  can  say  to  them  for  you  ?" 

"Yes,"  he  said  weakly,  "I  want  you  to  give  the  key  to 
one  of  my  boxes  to  Wheaton.  Tell  him  to  take  out  a 
package — marked  Traction — and  give  it  to  Fenton." 

Evelyn  brought  his  key  ring  and  he  pointed  out  the 
key  and  watched  her  slip  it  from  the  ring. 

"I'll  send  for  Mr.  Wheaton  at  once/'  she  said.  "Don't 
worry  any  more  about  it,  father." 


268  THE  MAIN"  CHANCE 

"Evelyn  I"  She  had  started  for  the  door,  but  now 
hurried  back  to  him. 

"Don't  tell  him  anything  over  the  telephone ;  jusk  ask 
him  to  come  up."  She  went  out  at  once  that  he  might 
be  assured,  and  he  turned  wearily  on  his  pillow  and 
slept. 

Porter's  illness  was  proclaimed  in  the  first  editions 
of  the  afternoon  papers,  which  Wheaton  saw  at  his  desk. 
News  gains  force  by  publication,  and  when  he  read  the 
printed  statement  that  the  president  of  the  Clarkson 
National  Bank  was  confined  to  his  house  by  illness,  he 
felt  that  Porter  must  really  be  very  sick;  and  he  natu 
rally  turned  the  fact  over  in  his  mind  to  see  how  this 
might  affect  him.  The  directors  came  in  and  sat  about 
in  the  directors'  room  with  their  hats  on,  and  Wingate, 
the  starch  manufacturer,  who  had  seen  Porter's  doctor, 
pronounced  the  president  a  very  sick  man  and  sug 
gested  that  Thompson,  the  invalid  vice-president,  ought 
to  be  notified.  The  others  acquiesced,  and  they  prepared 
a  telegram  to  Thompson  at  Phoenix,  suggesting  his  im 
mediate  return,  if  possible. 

Wheaton  sat  with  them  and  listened  respectfully. 
When  he  was  first  appointed  to  his  position,  he  had 
waited  with  a  kind  of  awe  for  the  pronouncements  of 
the  directors;  but  he  had  acquired  a  low  opinion  of 
them.  He  certainly  knew  more  about  the  affairs  of  the 
bank  than  any  of  them  except  Porter  and  he  knew  more 
than  Porter  of  the  details.  During  this  informal  con 
ference  of  the  directors,  Wheaton  was  called  to  the  tele 
phone,  and  was  cheered  by  the  sound  of  Evelyn's  voice. 
She  asked  him  to  come  up  as  soon  as  convenient;  she 
wished  to  give  him  a  message  from  her  father,  who  was 


INTERRUPTED  PLANS  269 

very  comfortable,  she  said.  After  dinner  would  do;  she 
knew  that  he  must  be  very  busy.  He  expressed  his 
sympathy  formally,  and  went  back  to  the  directors  with 
a  kindlier  feeling  toward  the  world.  There  was  a  con 
solation  for  him  in  the  knowledge  that  Miss  Porter 
must  summon  him  to  her  in  this  way;  her  father's 
illness  made  another  tie  between  them. 

Wingate  and  the  others  came  out  of  the  directors' 
room  as  he  put  down  the  telephone  receiver,  and  they 
stood  talking  at  his  desk.  He  found  a  secret  pleasure 
in  being  able  to  answer  at  once  the  questions  which 
Wingate  put  to  him,  as  to  how  the  discounts  were  run 
ning,  and  what  they  were  carrying  of  county  money, 
and  how  much  government  money  they  had  on  hand. 
Wingate  knew  no  more  of  banking  than  he  knew  of 
Egyptian  hieroglyphics ;  but  he  thought  he  did,  because 
he  had  read  the  national  banking  act  through  and  had 
once  met  the  comptroller  of  the  currency  at  dinner. 
The  other  directors  listened  to  Wheaton's  answers  with 
admiration.  When  they  got  outside  Wingate  remarked, 
as  they  stood  at  the  front  door  before  dispersing : 

"I  wish  to  thunder  I  could  ask  Jim  Wheaton  some 
thing  just  once  that  he  didn't  know.  That  fellow  knows 
every  balance  in  the  bank,  and  the  date  of  the  maturity 
of  every  loan.  He's  almost  too  good  to  be  true." 

They  laughed. 

"I  guess  Jim's  all  right,"  said  the  wholesale  dry  goods 
merchant,  who  was  a  good  deal  impressed  with  the  fact 
of  his  directorship. 

"Sure,"  said  Wingate.  "But  you  can  bet  Thompson's 
lungs  will  get  a  lot  better  when  he  gets  our  telegram." 
They  had  no  great  belief  in  Thompson's  invalidism.  It 


270  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

is  one  of  the  drolleries  of  our  American  life  that  men, 
particularly  in  Western  cities,  never  dare  to  be  ill ;  it  is 
much  nobler  and  far  more  convenient  to  die  than  to  be 
sick. 

Fenton  spent  the  afternoon  in  court.  He  intended 
to  call  at  the  Porters'  on  his  way  home,  and  stopped 
at  the  bank  before  going  to  his  office,  thinking  that 
the  banker  might  be  there;  but  the  president's  desk 
was  closed. 

"How  sick  is  Mr.  Porter?"  he  asked  Wheaton. 

"He's  pretty  sick,"  said  Wheaton.  "It's  typhoid 
fever." 

Fenton  whistled. 

"That's  what  the  doctor  calls  it.  I  spoke  to  Miss 
Porter  over  the  telephone  a  few  minutes  ago,  and  she 
did  not  seem  to  be  alarmed  about  her  father.  He's  very 
strong,  you  know." 

But  Fenton  was  not  listening.  "See  here,  Wheaton," 
he  said  suddenly,  "do  you  know  anything  about  Porter's 
private  affairs  ?" 

"Not  very  much,"  said  Wheaton  guardedly. 

"I  guess  you  don't  and  I  guess  nobody  does,  worse 
luck !  You  know  how  morbidly  secretive  he  is,  and  how 
he  shies  off  from  publicity, — I  suppose  you  do,"  he  went 
on  a  little  grimly.  He  did  not  like  Wheaton  particularly. 
"Well,  he  has  some  Traction  stock, — the  annual  meeting 
is  held  to-morrow  and  he's  got  to  be  represented." 

"He  never  told  me  of  it,"  said  Wheaton,  truthfully. 

"His  shares  are  probably  in  his  inside  pocket,  or  hid 
under  the  bed  at  home ;  but  we've  got  to  get  them  if  he 
has  any,  and  get  them  quick.  If  he  has  his  wits  he'll 


INTERRUPTED  PLANS  271 

probably  try  and  send  word  to  me.  I  suppose  I  couldn't 
see  him  if  I  went  up." 

"Miss  Porter  telephoned  me  to  come, — on  some  busi 
ness  matter,  she  said,  and  no  doubt  that's  what  it  is." 

"Then  I  won't  go  just  now,  but  I'll  see  you  here  as 
soon  as  you  get  down  town.  I'll  be  at  my  office  right 
after  dinner."  He  paused,  deliberating.  Fenton  was  a 
careful  man,  who  rose  to  emergencies. 

"I'll  come  directly  back  here,"  said  Wheaton.  "No 
doubt  the  papers  you  want  are  in  one  of  Mr.  Porter's 
private  boxes." 

"Can  you  get  into  it  to-night?" 

"Yes;  it's  in  the  vault  where  we  keep  the  account 
books,  and  there's  no  time  lock." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

JAMES  WHEATON  DECLINES  AN  OFFER 

Margrave  hung  up  the  receiver  of  his  desk  telephone 
with  a  slam,  and  rang  a  bell  for  the  office  boy. 

"Call  the  Clarkson  National,  and  tell  Mr.  Wheaton  to 
come  over, — right  away." 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon.  Wheaton  had  been  un 
usually  busy  with  routine  work  and  the  directors  had 
taken  an  hour  of  his  time.  He  had  turned  away  from 
Fenton  to  answer  Margrave's  message,,  and  went  toward 
the  Transcontinental  office  with  a  feeling  of  foreboding. 
He  remembered  the  place  very  well;  it  had  hardly 
changed  since  the  days  of  his  own  brief  service  there. 
As  he  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  private  office,  the 
sight  of  Margrave's  fat  bulk  squeezed  into  a  chair  that 
was  too  small  for  him,  impressed  him  unpleasantly ;  he 
had  come  with  mixed  feelings,  not  knowing  whether  his 
friendly  relations  with  the  railroader  were  to  be  further 
emphasized,  or  whether  Margrave  was  about  to  make 
some  demand  of  him.  His  doubts  were  quickly  dispelled 
by  Margrave,  who  turned  around  fiercely  as  the  door 
closed. 

"Sit  down,  Wheaton,"  he  said,  indicating  a  chair  by 
his  desk.  His  face  was  very  red  and  his  stubby  mustache 
seemed  stiffer  and  more  wire-like  than  ever.  He  was 

272 


WHEATON  DECLINES  AN  OFFER       273 

breathing  in  the  difficult  choked  manner  of  fat  men  in 
their  rage. 

"Now,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  something;  I  want  you 
to  answer  up  fair  and  square.  I've  got  to  come  right 
down  to  brass  tacks  with  you  and  I  want  you  to  tell  me 
the  God's  truth.  How  much  Traction  has  Billy  Porter 
got?" 

Wheaton  grew  white,  and  the  lids  closed  over  his  eyes 
sleepily. 

"Come  out  with  it,"  puffed  Margrave.  "If  you've  been 
making  a  fool  of  me  I  want  to  know  it." 

"I  don't  know  what  right  you've  got  to  ask  me  such  a 
question,"  Wheaton  answered  coldly. 

"No  right, — no  right!"  Margrave  panted.  "You 
damned  miserable  fool,  what  do  you  know  or  mean  by 
right  or  wrong  either  ?  I  can  take  my  medicine  as  well 
as  the  next  man,  but  when  a  friend  does  me  up,  then  I 
throw  up  my  hands.  Why  did  you  tell  me  you  knew 
what  Porter  was  doing,  and  lead  me  to  think — 

"Mr.  Margrave,"  said  Wheaton,  "I  didn't  come  here 
to  be  abused  by  you.  If  I've  done  you  any  injury,  I'm 
not  aware  of  it." 

"I  guess  that's  right,"  said  Margrave  ironically. 
"What  I  want  to  know  is  what  you  let  me  think  Porter 
wasn't  taking  hold  of  Traction  for?  You  knew  I  was 
going  into  it.  I  told  you  that  with  the  fool  idea  that 
you  were  a  friend  of  mine.  You  told  me  the  old  man 
had  stopped  buying — 

"And  when  I  did  I  betrayed  a  confidence,"  said 
Wheaton,  virtuously.  "I  had  no  business  telling  you 
anything  of  the  kind." 

"When  you  told  me  that,"  Margrave  went  on  in  bitter 


274  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

derision,,  shaking  his  finger  in  Wheaton's  face, — "when 
you  told  me  that  you  told  me  a  damned  lie,  that's  what 
you  did,  Jim  Wheaton." 

"You  can't  talk  to  me  that  way/'  said  Wheaton,  sitting 
up  in  his  chair  resentfully.  "When  I  told  you  that,  I 
believed  it,"  and  he  added,  with  a  second's  hesitation,  "I 
still  believe  it." 

"Don't  lie  any  more  to  me  about  it.  I  can  take  my 
medicine  as  well  as  the  next  man,  but — "  swaying  his 
big  head  back  and  forth  on  his  fat  shoulders, — "when  a 
man  plays  a  dirty  trick  on  Tim  Margrave,  I  want  him 
to  know  when  Margrave  finds  it  out.  I  never  thought 
it  of  you,  Jim.  I've  always  treated  you  as  white  as  I 
knew  how ;  I've  been  glad  to  see  you  in  my  house, — " 

"I  don't  know  what  you're  driving  at,  but  I  want  you 
to  stop  abusing  me,"  said  Wheaton,  with  more  vigor  of 
tone  than  he  had  yet  manifested.  "I  never  said  a  word 
to  you  about  Mr.  Porter  in  connection  with  Traction 
that  I  didn't  think  true.  The  only  mistake  I  made  was 
in  saying  anything  to  you  at  all ;  but  I  thought  you  were 
a  friend  of ,  mine.  If  anybody's  been  deceived,  I'm  the 
one." 

Margrave  watched  him  contemptuously. 

"Let  me  ask  you  something,,  Jim,"  he  said,  dropping 
his  blustering  tone.  "Haven't  you  known  all  these 
weeks  when  I've  been  seeing  you  every  few  days  at  the 
club,  and  at  my  own  house  several  times," — he  dwelt  on 
the  second  clause  as  if  the  breach  of  hospitality  on 
Wheaton's  part  had  been  the  grievous  offense, — "haven't 
you  known  that  the  old  man  was  chasing  over  the  coun 
try  in  his  carpet  slippers  buying  all  that  stock  he  could 
lay  his  hands  on  ?" 


WHEATON  DECLINES  AN  OFFEK       275 

"On  my  sacred  honor,  I  have  not.  When  we  talked 
of  it  I  knew  he  had  been  buying  some,  but  I  thought 
he'd  stopped,  as  I  let  you  understand.  Fm  sorry  if 
you  were  misled  by  anything  I  said." 

"Well,  that's  all  over  now/'  said  Margrave,  in  a  con 
ciliatory  tone.  "I'm  in  the  devil's  own  hole,  Jim.  I've 
been  relying  on  your  information ;  in  fact,  Fve  had  it  in 
mind  to  make  you  treasurer  of  the  company  when  we  get 
reorganized.  That  ought  to  show  you  what  a  lot  of  con 
fidence  I've  been  putting  in  you  all  this  time  that  you've 
been  watching  me  run  into  the  soup  clear  up  to  my 
chin." 

"I'm  honestly  sorry," — began  Wheaton.  "I  had  no 
idea  you  were  depending  on  me.  You  ought  to  have 
known  that  I  couldn't  betray  Mr.  Porter." 

"You  ought  to  be  sorry,"  said  Margrave  dolefully. 
"But,  look  here,  Jim,  I  don't  believe  you're  going  to  do 
me  up  on  this." 

"I'm  not  going  to  do  anybody  up;  but  I  don't  see 
what  I  can  do  to  help  you." 

"Well,  I  do.  You  gave  me  to  understand  that  you 
were  buying  this  stuff  yourself.  You  still  got  what  you 
had?" 

Margrave  knew  from  the  secretary  of  the  company 
that  Wheaton  owned  one  hundred  shares.  He  thrust  his 
hands  into  his  pockets  and  looked  at  Wheaton  appeal- 
ingly. 

"Yes,"  Wheaton  answered  reluctantly.  He  knew  now 
why  he  had  been  summoned. 

"Now,  how  many  shares  have  you,  Jim?"  with  in 
creasing  amiability  of  tone  and  manner. 


276  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"Just  what  I  bought  in  the  beginning;  one  hundred 
shares." 

Margrave  took  a  pad  from  his  desk  and  added  one 
hundred  to  a  short  column  of  figures.  He  made  the 
footing  and  regarded  the  total  with  careless  interest  be 
fore  looking  up. 

"How  much  do  you  want  for  that,  Jim  ?" 

"To  tell  the  truth,  Mr.  Margrave,  I  don't  know  that 
I  want  to  sell  it." 

"Now,  Jim,  you  ain't  going  to  hold  me  up  on  this? 
You've  got  me  into  a  pretty  mess,  and  I  hope  you're  not 
going  to  keep  on  pushing  me  in." 

Wheaton  crossed  and  recrossed  his  legs.  There  was 
Porter  and  there  was  Margrave.  To  whom  did  he  owe 
allegiance?  He  resented  the  way  in  which  Margrave 
had  taken  him  to  task ;  he  could  not  see  that  he  had  been 
culpable,  unless  as  against  Porter.  Yet  Porter  had  told 
him  nothing;  if  Porter  had  treated  him  with  a  little 
more  frankness,  he  certainly  would  never  have  men 
tioned  Traction  to  Margrave. 

"What  I  have  wouldn't  do  you  any  good,"  he  said 
finally. 

"But  it  might  do  me  some  harm!  Now,  you  don't 
want  these  shares,  Jim.  You're  entitled  to  a  profit,  and 
I'll  pay  you  a  fair  price." 

"I  can't  do  anything  to  hurt  Mr.  Porter,"  said 
Wheaton.  He  remembered  just  how  the  drawing-room 
at  the  Porters'  looked,  and  the  kindness  and  frankness 
of  Evelyn  Porter's  eyes. 

"Yes,  but  you've  got  a  duty  to  me,"  he  stormed, 
getting  red  in  the  face  again.  "You  can  bet  your 
life  that  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  I'd  never  have  been 


WHBATON  DECLINES  AN  OFFEK       277 

in  this  pickle.  Come  along  now,  Jim,  I've  got  a  lot 
of  our  railroad  people  to  go  in  on  this.  They  depend 
absolutely  on  my  judgment.  I'm  a  ruined  man  if  I 
fail  to  show  up  at  the  meeting  to-morrow  with  a 
majority  of  these  shares.  It  won't  make  any  differ 
ence  to  Billy  Porter  whether  he  wins  out  or  not.  He's 
got  plenty  of  irons  in  the  fire.  I  don't  know  as  a 
matter  of  fact  that  I  need  these  shares ;  but  I  want  to  be 
on  the  safe  side.  Does  Porter  know  what  you've  got  ?" 

Wheaton  shook  his  head. 

"Then  what's  the  harm  in  selling  them  where  you've 
got  a  chance,  even  if  you  wasn't  under  any  obligations 
to  me?  If  you  didn't  know  until  I  told  you  that  the 
old  man  was  on  the  still  hunt  for  this  stuff,  I  don't  see 
that  you're  bound  to  wait  for  him  to  come  around  and 
ask  you  to  sell  to  him.  How  much  shall  I  make  it  for  ?" 
He  opened  a  drawer  and  pulled  out  his  check-book. 

"They  tell  me  Porter's  pretty  sick,"  Margrave  con 
tinued,  running  the  stubs  of  the  check-book  through  his 
thick  thumb  and  forefinger.  "Billy  isn't  as  young  as  he 
used  to  be.  Very  likely  he'll  never  know  you  had  any 
Traction  stock,"  he  added  significantly.  "How  much 
shall  I  make  it  for,  Jim?" 

Wheaton  walked  over  to  the  window  and  looked  down 
into  the  street,  while  Margrave  watched  him  with  pen  in 
hand. 

"How  much  shall  I  make  it  for?"  he  asked  more 
sharply. 

"You  can't  make  it  for  anything,  Mr.  Margrave,  and 
I  want  to  say  that  I'm  very  much  disappointed  in  the 
way  you've  tried  to  get  it  from  me." 


278  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

Margrave  swung  around  on  him  with  an  oath.  But 
Wheaton  went  on,  speaking  carefully. 

"I  can't  imagine  that  the  few  shares  of  stock  I  hold 
can  be  of  real  importance  in  deciding  the  control  of  this 
company.  I  don't  say  I  won't  give  you  these  shares,  but 
I  can't  do  it  now." 

Margrave's  face  grew  red  and  purple  as  Wheaton 
walked  toward  the  door. 

"Maybe  you  think  you  can  wring  more  out  of  Porter 
than  you  can  out  of  me.  But,  by  God,  I'll  take  this  out 
of  you  and  out  of  him,  too,  if  I  go  broke  doing  it." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  KEY  TO  A  DILEMMA 

Evelyn  had  telephoned  to  Mrs.  Whipple  of  her  father's 
illness  in  terms  which  allayed  alarm;  but  when  the 
afternoon  paper  referred  to  it  ominously,  the  good 
woman  set  out  through  the  first  snowstorm  of  the  season 
for  the  Porter  house,  carrying  her  campaign  outfit,  as 
the  general  called  it,  in  a  suit-case.  Mrs.  Whipple's 
hopeful  equanimity  was  very  welcome  to  Evelyn,  who 
suffered  as  women  do  when  denied  the  privilege  of  min 
istering  to  their  sick  and  forced  to  see  their  natural 
office  usurped  by  others.  Mrs.  Whipple  brought  a  breath 
of  May  into  the  atmosphere  of  the  house.  She  found 
ways  of  dulling  the  edge  of  Evelyn's  anxiety  and  idle 
ness  ;  she  even  found  things  for  Evelyn  to  do,  and 
busied  herself  disposing  of  inquiries  at  the  door  and 
telephone  to  save  Evelyn  the  trouble.  In  Evelyn's  sit 
ting-room  Mrs.  Whipple  talked  of  clothes  and  made  it 
seem  a  great  favor  for  the  girl  to  drag  out  several  new 
gowns  for  inspection, — a  kind  of  first  view,  she  called  it; 
and  she  sighed  over  them  and  said  they  were  more  per 
fect  than  perfect  lyrics  and  would  appeal  to  a  larger 
audience.  .  . 

She  chose  one  of  the  lyrics  of  black  chiffon  and  lace, 
with  a  high  collar  and  half  sleeves  and  forced  Evelyn  to 

279 


280  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

put  it  on;  and  when  they  sat  down  to  dinner  together 
she  planned  a  portrait  of  Evelyn  in  the  same  gown, 
which  Chase  or  Sargent  must  paint.  She  managed  the 
talk  tactfully,  without  committing  the  error  of  trying  to 
ignore  the  sick  man  upstairs.  She  made  his  illness  seem 
incidental  merely,  and  with  a  bright  side,  in  that  it  gave 
her  a  chance  to  spend  a  few  days  at  the  Hill.  Then 
she  went  on : 

"Warry  and  Mr.  Saxton  were  at  the  house  last  night. 
It's  delightful  to  see  men  so  devoted  to  each  other  as 
they  are;  and  it's  great  fun  to  hear  them  banter  each 
other.  I  didn't  know  that  Mr.  Saxton  could  be  funny, 
but  in  his  quiet  way  he  says  the  drollest  things !" 

"I  thought  he  was  very  serious,"  said  Evelyn.  "I 
rarely  see  him,  but  when  I  do,  he  flatters  me  by  talking 
about  books.  He  thinks  I'm  literary !" 

"I  can't  imagine  it." 

Evelyn  laughed. 

"Oh,  thanks !    I'm  making  progress !" 

"It's  funny,"  Mrs.  Whipple  continued,  "the  way  he 
takes  care  of  Warry.  The  general  says  Mr.  Saxton  is 
a  Newfoundland  and  Warry  a  fox  terrier.  Warry's  at 
work  again,  and  I  suppose  we  have  Mr.  Saxton's  in 
fluence  to  thank." 

"A  man  like  that  could  do  a  great  deal  for  Warry," 
said  Evelyn.  "If  Warry  doesn't  settle  down  pretty  soon 
he'll  lose  his  chance."  Then,  her  father  coming  into  her 
thoughts,  she  added  irrelevantly :  "Mr.  Thompson  will 
probably  come  home.  Mr.  Wheaton  telephoned  that  the 
directors  had  wired  him." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Whipple,  looking  at  the  girl 


THE  KEY  TO  A  DILEMMA  281 

quickly, — "so  much  responsibility, — I  suppose  It  would 
be  hardly  fair  to  Mr.  Wheaton — 

"I  suppose  not,"  said  Evelyn. 

"It's  just  the  same  in  business  as  it  is  in  the  army," 
continued  Mrs.  Whipplc,  who  referred  everything  back 
to  the  military  establishment.  "The  bugle's  got  to  blow 
every  morning  whether  the  colonel's  sick  or  not.  I  sup 
pose  the  bank  keeps  open  just  the  same.  When  a  thing's 
once  well  started  it  has  a  way  of  running  on,  whether 
anybody  attends  to  it  or  not." 

"But  you  couldn't  get  father  to  believe  that,"  said 
Evelyn,  smiling  in  recollection  of  her  father's  life-long 
refutation  of  this  philosophy. 

"No  indeed,"  assented  Mrs.  Whipple.  "But  in  the 
army  there  is  a  good  deal  to  make  a  man  humble.  If  he 
gets  transferred  from  one  end  of  the  land  to  another, 
somebody  else  does  the  work  he  has  been  doing,  and 
usually  you  wouldn't  know  the  difference.  The  indi 
vidual  is  really  extinguished ;  they  all  sign  their  reports 
in  exactly  the  same  place,  and  one  signature  is  just  as 
good  at  Washington  as  another."  This  was  a  favorite 
line  of  discourse  with  Mrs.  Whipple;  she  had  reduced 
her  army  experience  to  a  philosophy,  which  she  was 
fond  of  presenting  on  any  occasion. 

The  maid  brought  Evelyn  a  card  before  they  had 
finished  coffee. 

"It's  Mr.  Wheaton,"  she  explained;  "I  asked  him  to 
come.  Father  was  greatly  troubled  about  some  matter 
which  he  said  must  not  be  neglected.  He  wanted  me  to 
give  the  key  of  his  box  to  Mr.  Wheaton, — there  are  some 
papers  which  it  is  very  necessary  for  Mr.  Fenton  to 
have.  It's  something  I  hadn't  heard  of  before,  but  it 


282  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

must  be  important.  He's  been  flighty  this  afternoon  and 
has  tried  to  talk  about  it." 

Evelyn  had  risen  and  stood  by  the  table  with  a 
troubled  look  on  her  face,  as  if  expecting  counsel;  but 
she  was  thinking  of  the  sick  man  upstairs  and  not  of  his 
business  affairs. 

"Yes;  don't  wait  for  me/'  said  the  older  woman,  as 
though  it  were  merely  a  question  of  the  girl's  excusing 
herself.  When  Evelyn  had  gone,  Mrs.  Whipple  plied 
her  spoon  in  her  cup  long  after  the  single  lump  of  sugar 
was  dissolved.  Mrs.  Whipple  had  a  way  of  disliking 
people  thoroughly  when  they  did  not  please  her,  and  she 
did  not  like  James  Wheaton.  She  was  wondering  why, 
as  she  sat  alone  at  the  table  and  played  with  the  spoon. 

The  maid  who  admitted  Wheaton  had  let  him  elect 
between  the  drawing  room  and  the  library,  and  he  chose 
the  latter  instinctively,  as  less  formal  and  more  ap 
propriate  for  an  interview  based  on  his  dual  social  and 
business  relations  with  the  Porters.  His  slim  figure 
appeared  to  advantage  in  evening  clothes;  he  was  no 
longer  afraid  of  rooms  that  were  handsome  and  spacious 
like  this.  There  was  nowadays  no  more  correctly 
groomed  man  in  Clarkson  than  he,  though  Warry  Kari- 
dan  had  remarked  to  Wheaton  at  the  Bachelors'  that 
his  ties  were  composed  a  trifle  too  neatly;  a  tie  to  be 
properly  done  should,  Earidan  held,  leave  something  to 
the  imagination.  Wheaton  heard  the  swish  of  Evelyn's 
skirts  in  the  hall  with  a  quickening  heartbeat.  Her 
black  gown  intensified  her  fairness;  he  had  never  seen 
her  in  black  before,  and  it  gave  a  new  accent  to  her 
beauty  as  she  came  toward  him. 

"It  was  a  great  shock  to  us  down  town  to  hear  of 


THE  KEY  TO  A  DILEMMA  283 

your  father's  illness.  He  seemed  as  well  as  usual  yes 
terday." 

"Did  you  think  so  ?  I  thought  he  looked  worn  when 
he  came  home  last  evening.  He  has  been  working  very 
hard  lately." 

Wheaton  had  never  seen  her  so  grave.  He  was  sin 
cerely  sorry  for  her  trouble,  and  he  tried  to  say  so. 
There  was  something  appealing  in  her  unusual  calm; 
the  low  tones  of  her  voice  were  not  wasted  on  him. 

"Father  asked  me  to  send  for  you  this  morning,  but 
he  had  grown  so  ill  in  a  few  hours  that  I  took  the 
responsibility  of  not  doing  it.  The  doctor  said  em 
phatically  that  he  must  not  see  people.  But  something 
in  particular  was  on  his  mind,  some  papers  that  Mr. 
Fenton  should  have.  They  are  in  his  box  at  the  bank, 
and  I  was  to  give  you  the  key  to  it.  It  is  something 
about  the  Traction  Company;  no  doubt  you  know  of 
it?" 

"Yes,"  Wheaton  assented.  It  was  not  necessary  for 
him  to  say  that  Mr.  Porter  had  told  him  nothing 
about  it. 

"You  can  attend  to  this  easily?" 

"Yes,  certainly.  Mr.  Fenton  spoke  to  me  about  the 
matter  this  afternoon.  It  is  very  important  and  he 
wished  me  to  report  to  him  as  soon  as  I  found  the 
papers.  No  doubt  they  are  in  your  father's  box,"  he 
said.  "He  is  always  very  methodical."  He  smiled  at  her 
reassuringly  and  rose.  She  did  not  ask  him  to  stay 
longer,  but  went  to  fetch  the  key. 

It  was  a  small,  thin  bit  of  steel.  Wheaton  turned  it 
over  in  his  hand. 


284  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"I'll  return  the  key  to-morrow,  after  I've  found  the 
papers  Mr.  Fenton  wants." 

"Very  well.     I  hope  you  will  have  no  difficulty." 

He  still  held  the  key  in  his  fingers,,  not  knowing 
whether  this  was  his  dismissal  or  not. 

"There  is  one  thing  more,  Mr.  Wheaton.  Father 
seemed  very  much  troubled  about  this  Traction 
matter—" 

"Very  unnecessarily,  I'm  sure,"  said  Wheaton  sooth 
ingly. 

"He  evidently  wished  all  the  papers  he  has  concerning 
the  company  to  be  given  to  Mr.  Fenton.  Now,  this 
probably  is  of  no  importance  whatever,  but  several  years 
ago  father  gave  me  some  stock  in  the  street  railway 
company.  It  came  about  through  a  little  fun-making 
between  us.  We  were  talking  of  railway  passes, — you 
know  he  never  accepts  any  " — Wheaton  blinked — "and 
I  told  him  I'd  like  to  have  a  pass  on  something,  even  if 
it  was  only  a  street  car  line." 

She  was  smiling  in  her  eagerness  that  he  should  under 
stand  perfectly. 

"And  ho  said  he  guessed  he  could  fix  that  by  giving 
me  some  stock  in  the  company.  I  remember  that  he 
made  light  of  it  when  I  thanked  him,  and  said  it  wasn't 
so  important  as  it  looked.  He  probably  forgot  it  long 
ago.  I  had  forgotten  it  myself — I  never  got  the  pass, 
either !  but  I  brought  the  stock  down  thinking  that  Mr. 
Fenton  might  have  use  for  it."  She  went  over  to  the 
mantel  and  picked  up  a  paper,  while  he  watched  her; 
and  when  she  put  it  into  his  hand  he  turned  it  over. 
It  was  a  certificate  for  one  hundred  shares,  issued  in 
due  form  to  Evelyn  Porter,  but  was  not  assigned. 


THE  KEY  TO  A  DILEMMA  285 

"It  may  be  important,"  said  Wheaton,  regarding  the 
paper  thoughtfully.  "Mr.  Fenton  will  know.  It 
couldn't  be  used  without  your  name  on  the  back/'  he 
said,  indicating  the  place  on  the  certificate. 

"Oh,  should  I  sign  it  ?"  she  asked,  in  the  curious  flut 
tering  way  in  which  many  women  approach  the  minor 
details  of  business.  Wheaton  hesitated;  he  did  not 
imagine  that  this  block  of  stock  could  be  of  importance, 
and  yet  the  tentative  business  association  with  Miss 
Porter  was  so  pleasant  that  he  yielded  to  a  temptation 
to  prolong  it. 

"Yes,  you  might  sign  it/'  he  said. 

Evelyn  went  to  her  father's  table  and  wrote  her  name 
as  Wheaton  indicated. 

"A  witness  is  required  and  I  will  supply  that."  And 
Wheaton  sat  down  at  the  table  and  signed  his  name 
beside  hers,  while  she  stood  opposite  him,  the  tips  of 
her  fingers  resting  on  the  table. 

"Evelyn  Porter"  and  "James  Wheaton."  He  blotted 
the  names  with  Porter's  blotter,  Evelyn  still  standing 
by  him,  slightly  mystified  as  women  often  are  by  the  fact 
that  their  signatures  have  a  value.  He  felt  that  there 
was  something  intimate  in  the  fact  of  their  signing 
themselves  together  there.  He  was  thrilled  by  her 
beauty.  The  black  lace  falling  from  her  elbows  made  a 
filmy  tracery  upon  her  white  arms.  Her  head  was  bent 
toward  him,  the  shaded  lamp  cast  a  glow  upon  her 
face  and  throat,  and  her  slim,  white  hands  rested  on  the 
table  so  near  that  he  could  have  touched  them.  She 
bent  her  gaze  upon  him  gravely;  she,  too,  felt  that  his 
relations  w'ith  her  father  made  a  tic  between  them;  he 
was  older  than  the  other  men  who  came  to  see  her;  she 


286  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

yielded  him  a  respect  for  his  well-won  success.  A  vague 
sense  of  what  her  father  liked  in  him  crept  into  her 
mind  in  the  moment  that  she  stood  looking  down  on 
him;  he  was  quiet,  deft  and  sure, — qualities  which  his 
smoothly-combed  black  hair  and  immaculate  linen 
seemed  to  emphasize.  She  gave,  in  her  ignorance  of 
business,  an  exaggerated  importance  to  the  trifling 
transaction  which  he  had  now  concluded.  He  smiled 
up  at  her  as  he  put  down  the  pen. 

"It  isn't  as  serious  as  it  looks,"  he  said,  rising. 

"It  must  be  very  interesting  when  you  understand 
it,"  she  answered. 

"I'm  sorry — so  very  sorry  for  your  trouble.  I  hope — 
if  I  can  serve  you  in  any  way  you  will  not  hesitate — " 

"You  are  very  kind,"  she  said.  Neither  moved.  They 
regarded  each  other  across  the  table  with  a  serious  fixed 
gaze;  the  sweet  girlish  spirit  in  her  was  held  by  some 
curious  fascinating  power  in  him.  He  bent  toward  her, 
his  hand  lightly  clenched  on  the  edge  of  the  table. 

"I  hope  there  may  never  be  a  time  when  you  will  not 
feel  free  to  command  me — in  any  way."  He  spoke 
slowly ;  his  words  seemed  to  bind  a  chain  about  her  and 
she  could  not  move  or  answer.  With  a  sudden  gesture 
he  put  out  his  hand ;  it  almost  touched  hers,  and  she  did 
not  shrink  away. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Wheaton !"  Mrs.  Whipple,  hand 
some  and  smiling,  sent  her  greeting  from  the  -threshold, 
and  swept  into  the  room;  and  when  she  took  his  hand 
she  held  it  for  a  moment,  as  an  elderly  woman  may, 
while  she  chid  him  for  his  remissness  in  never  coming 
to  call  on  her. 

On  his  way  down  the  slope  to  the  car,  Wheaton  felt  in 


THE  KEY  TO  A  DILEMMA  287 

his  pocket  several  times  to  be  sure  of  the  key.  There 
was  something  the  least  bit  uncanny  in  his  possession  of 
it.  Yesterday,  as  he  knew  well  enough,  William  Porter 
would  no  more  have  intrusted  the  key  of  his  private  box 
to  him  or  to  any  one  else  than  he  would  have  burned 
down  his  house.  He  read  into  his  errand  a  trust  on 
Porter's  part  that  included  Porter's  daughter,  too;  but 
he  got  little  satisfaction  from  this.  He  was  only  the 
most  convenient  messenger  available.  His  spirits  rose 
and  fell  as  he  debated. 

The  down-town  streets  were  very  quiet  when  he 
reached  the  business  district.  He  went  to  the  side  door 
of  the  bank  and  knocked  for  the  watchman  to  admit 
him.  He  took  off  his  overcoat  and  hat  and  laid  them 
down  carefully  on  his  own  desk. 

"Going  to  work  to-night,  Mr.  Wheaton?"  asked  the 
watchman. 

Wheaton  felt  that  he  owed  it  to  the  watchman  to 
explain,  and  he  said: 

"There  are  some  papers  in  Mr.  Porter's  box  that 
I  must  give  to  Mr.  Fenton  to-night.  They  are  in  the 
old  vault,"  This  vault  was  often  opened  at  night  by 
the  bookkeepers  and  there  was  no  reason  why  the 
cashier  should  not  enter  it  when  he  pleased.  The 
watchman  turned  up  the  lights  so  that  Wheaton  could 
manipulate  the  combination,  and  then  swung  open  the 
door.  Wheaton  thanked  him  and  went  in.  Two  keys 
were  necessary  to  open  all  of  the  boxes;  one  was  com 
mon  to  all  and  was  kept  by  the  bank.  Wheaton  easily 
found  it,  and  then  he  took  from  his  pocket  Porter's  key 
which  supplemented  the  other.  His  pulses  beat  fast  as 
he  felt  the  lock  yield  to  the  thin  strip  of  steel,  and  in  a 


288  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

moment  the  box  lay  open  before  his  eyes.  He  had  flashed 
on  the  electric  light  bulb  in  the  vault  and  recognized 
instantly  Porter's  inscription  "Traction"  on  a  brown 
bundle.  He  then  opened  his  own  box  and  took  out  his 
Traction  certificate  and  carried  it  with  Porter's  packet 
into  the  directors'  room. 

He  sat  playing  with  the  package,  which  was  sealed  in 
green  wax  with  the  plain  oval  insignium  of  the  bank. 
The  packet  was  larger  than  he  had  expected  if  to  be ;  he 
had  no  idea  of  the  amount  of  stock  it  contained ;  and  he 
knew  nothing  of  the  bonds.  He  felt  tempted  to  open 
it ;  but  clearly  that  was  not  within  his  instructions.  He 
must  deliver  it  intact  to  Fenton,  and  he  would  do  it  in- 
stantty.  He  hesitated,  though,  and  drew  out  the  cer 
tificate  which  Evelyn  had  given  him  and  turned  the  crisp 
paper  over  in  his  hand.  Each  of  them  owned  one  hun 
dred  shares  of  Traction  stock;  he  was  not  thinking  of 
this,  but  of  Evelyn,  whose  signature  held  his  eye.  It 
was  an  angular  hand,  and  she  ran  her  two  names  to 
gether  with  a  long  sweep  of  the  pen. 

His  thoughts  were  given  a  new  direction  by  the  noise 
of  a  colloquy  between  the  watchman  and  some  one  at 
the  door.  He  heard  his  own  name  mentioned,  and 
thrusting  the  certificates  into  his  pocket,  he  went  out  to 
learn  what  was  the  matter. 

"Mr.  Wheaton,"  called  the  watchman,  who  held  the 
door  partly  closed  on  some  one,  "Mr.  Margrave  wishes 
to  see  you." 

As  Wheaton  walked  toward  the  watchman,  Margrave 
strode  in  heavily  on  the  tile  floor  of  the  bank. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

A  MEETING  BETWEEN   GENTLEMEN 

"Hello,  Wheaton,"  said  Margrave  cheerfully.  "I've 
had  the  devil's  own  time  finding  you." 

He  advanced  upon  Wheaton  and  shook  him  warmly  by 
the  hand.  Then,  this  having  been  for  the  benefit  of  the 
watchman,  he  said,  in  a  low  tone : 

"Let's  go  into  the  directors'  room,  Jim,  I  want  to  see 
you." 

The  main  bank  room  was  only  dimly  lighted,  but  a 
cluster  of  electric  lights  burned  brilliantly  above  the 
directors'  mahogany  table,  around  which  were  chairs  of 
the  Bank  of  England  pattern. 

"Have  a  seat,  Mr.  Margrave,"  said  Wheaton  formally. 
He  had  left  the  door  open,  but  Margrave  closed  it  care 
fully.  Porter's  bundle  of  papers  in  its  manila  wrapper 
lay  on  the  table,  and  Wheaton  sat  down  close  to  it. 

"What  you  got  there,  greenbacks?"  asked  Margrave. 
"If  you  were  just  leaving  for  Canada,  don't  miss  the 
train  on  my  account." 

"That  isn't  funny,"  said  Wheaton,  severely. 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  be  so  damned  sensitive,"  said  Mar 
grave,  throwing  open  his  overcoat  and  placing  his  hat 
on  the  table  in  front  of  him.  "I  guess  you  ain't  any 
better  than  some  of  the  rest  of  'em." 

289 


290  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"I  Suppose  you  didn't  come  to  say  that/'  said  Wheat- 
on.  He  ran  his  fingers  over  the  wax  seal  on  the  packet. 
He  wished  that  it  were  back  in  Porter's  box. 

"We  were  having  a  little  talk  this  afternoon,  Jim/' 
began  Margrave  in  a  friendly  and  familiar  tone,  "about 
Traction  matters.  As  I  remember  it,  in  our  last  talk, 
it  was  understood  that  if  I  needed  your  little  bunch  of 
Traction  shares  you'd  let  me  have  'em  when  the  time 
came.  Now  our  friend  Porter's  sick,"  continued  Mar 
grave,  watching  Wheaton  sharply  with  his  small,  keen 
eyes. 

"Yes;  he's  sick,"  repeated  Wheaton. 

"He's  pretty  damned  sick." 

"I  suppose  you  mean  he  is  very  sick;  I  don't  know 
that  it's  so  serious.  I  was  at  the  house  this  evening." 

"Comforting  the  daughter,  no  doubt,"  with  a  sneer. 
"Now,  Jim,  I'm  going  to  say  something  to  you  and 
I  don't  want  you  to  give  back  any  prayer  meeting  talk. 
The  chances  are  that  Porter's  going  to  die."  He 
waited  a>  moment  to  let  the  remark  sink  into  Wheaton's 
consciousness,  and  then  he  went  on:  "I  guess  he  won't 
be  able  to  vote  his  stock  to-morrow.  I  suppose  you've 
got  it  or  know  where  it  is."  He  eyed  the  bundle  on 
which  Wheaton's  hand  at  that  moment  rested  nervously, 
and  Wheaton  sat  back  in  his  chair  and  thrust  his  hand 
into  his  trousers'  pockets,  looking  unconcernedly  at 
Margrave. 

"I  want  that  stock,  Jim,"  said  the  railroader,  quietly, 
"and  I  want  you  to  give  it  to  me  to-night," 

"Margrave,"  said  Wheaton,  and  it  was  the  first  time  he 
had  so  addressed  him,  "you  must  be  crazy,  or  a  fool." 

"Things  are  going  pretty  well  with  you,  Jim,"  Mar- 


A  MEETING  BETWEEN  GENTLEMEN     291 

grave  continued,  as  if  in  friendly  canvass  of  Wheaton's 
future.  "You  have  a  good  position  here ;  when  the  old 
man's  out  of  the  way,  you  can  marry  the  girl  and  be  pres 
ident  of  the  bank.  It's  dead  easy  for  a  smart  fellow  like 
you.  It  would  be  too  bad  for  you  to  spoil  such  prospects 
right  now,  when  the  game  is  all  in  your  own  hands,  by 
failing  to  help  a  friend  in  trouble."  Wheaton  said  noth 
ing  and  Margrave  resumed : 

"You're  trying  to  catch  on  to  this  damned  society  busi 
ness  here,  and  I  want  you  to  do  it.  I  haven't  got  any 
objections  to  your  sailing  as  high  as  you  can.  I  know 
all  about  you.  I  gave  you  your  first  job  when  you 
came  here — " 

"I  appreciate  all  that,  Mr.  Margrave,"  Wheaton  broke 
in.  "You  said  the  word  that  got  me  into  the  Clarkson 
National,  and  I  have  never  forgotten  it." 

"Well,  I  don't  want  you  to  forget  it.  But  see  here: 
as  long  as  I  recommended  you  and  stood  by  you  when 
you  were  a  ratty  little  train  butcher,  and  without  know 
ing  anything  about  you  except  that  you  were  always  on 
hand  and  kept  your  mouth  shut,  I  think  you  owe  some 
thing  to  me."  He  bent  forward  in  his  chair,  which 
creaked  under  him  as  he  shifted  his  bulk.  "One  night 
last  fall,  just  before  the  Knights  of  Midas  show,  a 
drunken  scamp  came  into  my  yard,  and  made  a  nasty 
row.  I  was  about  to  turn  him  over  to  the  police  when 
he  began  whimpering  and  said  he  knew  you.  He  wasn't 
doing  any  particular  harm  and  I  gave  him  a  quarter  and 
told  him  to  get  out ;  but  he  wanted  to  talk.  He  said — " 
Margrave  dropped  his  voice  and  fastened  his  eyes  on 
Wheaton — "he  was  a  long-lost  brother  of  yours.  He 
was  pretty  drunk,  but  he  seemed  clear  on  your  family 


292  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

history,  Jim.  He  said  he'd  done  time  once  back  in 
Illinois,  and  got  you  out  of  a  scrape.  He  told  me  his 
name  was  William  Wheaton,  but  that  he  had  lost  it  in 
the  shuffle  somewhere  and  was  known  as  Snyder.  I 
gave  him  a  quarter  and  started  him  toward  Porter's 
where  I  knew  you  were  doing  the  society  act.  I  heard 
afterward  that  he  found  you." 

Margrave  creaked  back  in  his  chair  and  chuckled. 

"He  was  an  infernal  liar/'  said  Wheaton  hotly.  "And 
so  you  sent  that  scamp  over  there  to  make  a  row.  I 
didn't  think  you  would  play  me  a  trick  like  that."  He 
was  betrayed  out  of  his  usual  calm  control  and  his 
mouth  twitched. 

"Now,  Jim,"  Margrave  continued  magnanimously,  "I 
don't  care  a  damn  about  your  family  connections. 
You're  all  right.  You're  good  enough  for  me,  you  un 
derstand,  and  you're  good  enough  for  the  Porters.  My 
father  was  a  butcher  and  I  began  life  sweeping  out  the 
shop,  and  I  guess  everybody  knows  it ;  and  if  they  don't 
like  it,  they  know  what  they  can  do." 

Whcaton's  hand  rested  again  on  the  packet  before 
him;  he  had  flushed  to  the  temples,  but  the  color 
slowly  died  out  of  his  face.  It  was  very  still  in  the 
room,  and  the  watchman  could  be  heard  walking  across 
the  tiled  lobby  outside.  A  patrol  wagon  rattled  in  the 
street  with  a  great  clang  of  its  gong.  Wheaton  had 
moved  the  brown  parcel  a  little  nearer  to  the  edge  of 
the  table;  Margrave  noticed  this  and  for  the  first  time 
took  a  serious  interest  in  the  packet.  He  was  not  built 
for  quick  evolutions,  but  he  made  what  was,  for  a  man 
of  his  bulk,  a  sudden  movement  around  the  table  toward 
Wheaton,  who  was  between  him  and  the  door. 


A  MEETING  BETWEEN  GENTLEMEN     293 

"What  you  got  in  that  paper,  Jim  ?"  he  asked,  puffing 
from  his  exertion. 

Still  Wheaton  did  not  speak,  but  he  picked  up  the 
parcel  and  took  a  step  toward  the  door,  Margrave  ad 
vancing  upon  him. 

Wheaton  reached  the  door,  holding  the  package  under 
his  arm. 

"Don't  touch  me;  don't  touch  me,"  he  said,  hoarsely. 
Margrave  still  came  toward  him.  Wheaton's  unengaged 
hand  went  nervously  to  his  throat,  and  he  fumbled  at  his 
tie.  The  sweat  came  out  on  his  forehead.  It  was  a 
curious  scene,  the  tall,  dark  man  in  his  evening  clothes, 
pitiful  in  his  agitation,  with  his  back  against  the  door, 
hugging  the  bundle  under  one  arm;  and  Margrave,  in 
his  rough  business  suit,  walking  slowly  toward  Wheaton, 
who  retreated  before  him. 

"I  want  that  package,  Jim." 

"Go  away !  go  away !"  The  sweat  shone  on  Wheaton's 
forehead  in  great  drops.  "I  can't,  I  can't — you  know  I 
can't!" 

"You  damned  coward !"  said  Margrave,  laughing  sud 
denly.  "I  want  that  bundle."  He  made  a  gesture  and 
Wheaton  dodged  and  shrank  away.  Margrave  laughed 
again;  a  malicious  mirth  possessed  him.  But  he  grew 
suddenly  fierce  and  his  fat  fingers  closed  about  Whea 
ton's  neck.  Wheaton  huddled  against  the  door,  holding 
the  brown  packet  with  both  hands. 

"Drop  it !  Drop  it !"  blurted  Margrave.  He  was 
breathing  hard. 

A  sharp  knock  at  the  door  against  which  they  strug 
gled  caused  Margrave  to  spring  away.  He  walked  down 
the  room  several  paces  with  an  assumption  of  careless- 


294  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

% 

ness,  and  Wheaton,  with  the  bundle  still  under  his  arm, 
turned  the  knob  of  the  door. 

"Hello,  Wheaton!"  called  Fenton,  blinking  in  the 
glare  of  the  lights. 

"Good  evening,"  said  Wheaton. 

"How're  you,  Fenton,"  said  Margrave,  carelessly,  but 
mopping  his  forehead  with  his  handkerchief. 

"Here  are  your  papers,"  said  Wheaton,  almost  thrust 
ing  his  parcel  into  the  lawyer's  hands. 

"All  right/'  said  Fenton,  looking  curiously  from  one 
to  the  other.  And  then  he  glanced  at  the  package,  as 
if  absent-mindedly,  and  saw  that  the  seal  was  unbroken. 

"Good  night,  gentlemen,"  he  said.  "Sorry  to  have 
disturbed  you." 

"Hope  you're  not  going  to  work  to-night,"  said  Mar 
grave,  solicitously. 

"Oh,  not  very  long,"  said  the  lawyer. 

"Hard  on  honest  men  when  lawyers  work  at  night," 
continued  Margrave,  as  the  lawyer  walked  across  the 
lobby. 

"Yes,  you  railroad  people  can  say  that/'  Fenton  flung 
back  at  him. 

"How  much  Traction  was  in  that  package?"  asked 
Margrave,  closing  the  door. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Wheaton,  smoothing  his  tie.  The 
watchman  could  be  heard  closing  the  outside  door  on 
Fenton. 

"No,  I  don't  think  you  do,"  returned  Margrave. 
"You'd  fixed  it  pretty  well  with  Fenton.  If  he'd  only 
been  a  minute  later  I'd  have  got  that  bundle.  I  didn't 
realize  at  first  what  you  had  there,  Jim,  until  you  kept 
fingering  it  so  desperately.'^ 


A  MEETING  BETWEEN  GENTLEMEN     295 

"Now/'  he  said  amiably,  as  if  the  real  business  of  the 
evening  had  just  been  reached,  "there  are  those  shares 
you  own,  Jim.  I  hope  we  won't  be  interrupted  while 
you're  getting  them  for  me." 

Wheaton  hesitated. 

"You  get  them  for  me,"  said  Margrave  with  a  change 
of  manner,  "quick !" 

Wheaton  still  hesitated. 

Margrave  picked  up  his  hat. 

"I'm  going  from  here  to  the  Gazette  office.  You 
know  they  do  what  I  tell  'em  over  there.  They'd  like 
a  little  story  about  the  aristocratic  Wheaton  family  of 
Ohio.  Porter's  girl  would  like  that  for  breakfast  to 
morrow  morning." 

Wheaton  hung  between  two  inclinations,  one  to 
make  terms  with  Margrave  and  assure  his  friendship  at 
any  hazard,  the  other  to  break  with  him,  let  the  con 
sequences  be  what  they  might.  It  is  one  of  the  impres 
sive  facts  of  human  destiny  that  the  frail  barks  among 
us  are  those  which  are  sent  into  the  least  known  seas. 
€reat  mariners  have  made  charts  and  set  warning  lights, 
but  the  hidden  reefs  change  hourly,  and  the  great 
chartographer  Experience  cannot  keep  pace  with  them. 

"Hurry  up,"  said  Margrave  impatiently;  "this  is  my 
busy  night  and  I  can't  wait  on  you.  Dig  it  up." 

Wheaton's  hand  went  slowly  to  his  pocket.  As  he 
drew  out  his  own  certificate  with  nervous  fingers,  the 
certificate  which  Evelyn  Porter  had  given  him  an  hour 
before  fell  upon  the  table. 

"That's  the  right  color,"  said  Margrave,  snatching 
the  paper  as  Wheaton  sprang  forward  to  regain  it. 


296  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"Not  that !  not  that !    That  isn't  mine  I" 

Margrave  stepped  back  and  swept  the  face  of  the  eer* 
tificate  with  his  eyes. 

"Well,  this  does  beat  hell!  I  knew  you  stood  next, 
Jim/'  he  said  insolently,  "but  I  didn't  know  that  you 
were  on  such  confidential  terms  as  all  this.  And  you 
witnessed  the  signature.  Gosh !  How  sweet  and  pretty 
it  all  is !"  The  paper  exhaled  the  faint  odor  of  sachet, 
and  Margrave  lifted  it  to  his  nostrils  with  a  mockery  of 
delight. 

"I  must  have  that,  Margrave.  I  will  do  anything, 
but  I  must  have  that You  wouldn't " 

Margrave  watched  him  maliciously,  thoroughly  enjoy 
ing  his  terror. 

"How  do  you  know  I  wouldn't?  Give  me  the  other 
one,  Jim." 

Still  Wheaton  held  his  own  certificate ;  he  believed  for 
a  moment  that  he  could  trade  the  one  for  the  other. 

"I'm  not  going  to  fool  with  you  much  longer,  Jim; 
you  either  give  me  that  certificate  or  I  go  to  the  Gazette 
office  as  straight  as  I  can  walk.  Just  sign  it  in  blank, 
the  way  the  other  one  is.  I'll  witness  it  all  right." 

Wheaton  wrote  while  Margrave  stood  over  him,  hold 
ing  ready  a  blotter  which  he  applied  to  Wheaton's  signa 
ture  with  unnecessary  care. 

"I  hope  this  won't  cause  you  any  inconvenience  with 
the  lady,  but  you're  undoubtedly  a  fair  liar  and  you  can 
fix  that  all  right,  particularly" — with  a  chuckle — "if  the 
old  man  cashes  in." 

Wheaton  followed  Margrave's  movements  as  if  under 
a  spell  that  he  could  not  shake  off.  Margrave  walked 


A  MEETING  BETWEEN  GENTLEMEN     29? 

toward  the  door  with  an  air  of  nonchalance,  pulling  on 
his  gloves. 

"I  haven't  my  check-book  with  me,  Jim,  but  I'll 
settle  for  your  stock  and  Miss  Evelyn's,  too,  after  I  get 
things  reorganized.  It'll  be  worth  moTe  money  then. 
Please  give  the  young  lady  my  compliments/'  with 
irritating  suavity.  He  stopped,  smoothing  the  backs 
of  his  gloves  placidly.  "That's  all  right,  Jim,  ain't 
it?"  he  asked  mockingly. 

"I  hope  you're  satisfied,"  said  Wheaton  weakly. 
Twice,  within  a  year,  he  had  felt  the  fingers  of  an 
angry  man  at  his  throat  and  he  did  not  relish  the 
experience. 

"I'm  never  satisfied,"  said  Margrave,  picking  up  his 
hat. 

Wheaton  wished  to  make  a  bargain  with  him,  to  assure 
his  own  immunity ;  but  he  did  not  know  how  to  accom 
plish  it.  Margrave  had  threatened  him,  and  he  wished 
to  dull  the  point  of  the  threat,  but  he  was  afraid  to  ask 
a  promise  of  him.  He  said,  as  Margrave  opened  the 
door  to  go  out : 

"Do  you  think  Fenton  noticed  anything?"  His  tone 
was  so  pitiful  in  its  eagerness  that  Margrave  laughed  in 
his  face. 

"I  don't  know,  Jim,  and  I  don't  give  a  damn." 

Wheaton  did  not  follow  him  to  the  door,  but  Mar 
grave  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  leave.  The  watchman  went 
forward  to  let  him  out  at  the  side  entrance,  and  Mar 
grave  paused  to  light  a  cigar  very  deliberately  and  to 
urge  one  on  the  watchman. 

"If  he'd  only  been  sure  the  old  man  would  have  died 
to-night,"  he  reflected  as  he  walked  up  the  street,  "he'd 


298  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

have  given  me  Porter's  shares,  easy."     He  went  to  his 
office,  entertaining  himself  with  this  pleasant  specula 
tion.     "If  Fd  got  out  of  the.  bank  with  that  package 
he'd  never  dared  squeal/'  he  presently  concluded. 
Timothy  Margrave  was  a  fair  judge  of  character. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

BROKEN  GLASS 

John  Saxton  was  a  good  deal  the  worse  for  wear  as 
he  swung  himself  from  a  sleeper  in  the  Clarkson  station 
and  bolted  for  a  down- town  car.  Coal  mining  is  a  dirty 
business,  and  there  are  limits  to  the  things  that  can  be 
crowded  into  a  suit-case.  He  had  been  crawling  through 
four-foot  veins  of  Kansas  coal  in  the  interest  of  the 
Neponset  Trust  Company,,  and  had  been  delayed  a  day 
longer  than  he  had  expected.  He  continued  to  be 
in  a  good  deal  of  a  hurry  after  he  reached  his  office,  and 
he  kicked  aside  the  mail  which  rustled  under  the  door 
as  he  opened  it,  and  knelt  hastily  before  the  safe  and 
began  rattling  the  tumblers  of  the  combination.  He 
pulled  out  a  long  envelope  and  then  with  more  com 
posure  consulted  his  watch. 

It  was  half-past  eight.  He  took  from  his  memoran 
dum  calendar  the  leaf  for  the  day;  on  it  he  had  posted 
a  cutting  from  a  local  newspaper  announcing  the 
annual  meeting  of  the  stockholders  of  the  Clarkson 
Traction  Company.  The  meeting  was  to  be  held,  so 
the  notice  recited,  between  the  hours  of  9  a.  m.  and  5 
p.  m.  of  the  second  Tuesday  of  November,  at  the  general 
offices  of  the  Company  in  the  city  of  Clarkson.  The 
Exchange  Building  was  specified,  though  the  adminis- 

299 


300  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

trative  offices  of  the  Company  were  on  the  other  side  of 
town.  Before  setting  forth  Saxton  examined  his  papers, 
which  were  certificates  of  stock  in  the  Clarkson  Traction 
Company.  They  had  been  sent  to  him  by  a  personal 
friend  in  Boston,  the  trustee  of  an  estate,  with  instruc 
tions  to  investigate  and  report.  Having  received  them 
just  as  he  was  leaving  for  Kansas,  there  had  been  no 
opportunity  for  consulting  Porter  or  Wheaton,  his  usual 
advisers  in  perplexing  matters.  Traction  stock  had 
advanced  lately,  despite  newspaper  attacks  on  the  com 
pany  and  he  hoped  to  sell  his  friend's  shares  to  ad 
vantage. 

Saxton  had  never  been  in  the  Exchange  Building 
before  and  he  poked  about  in  the  dark  upper  floors, 
uncertainly  looking  for  the  rooms  described  in  the  ad 
vertisement.  Another  man,  also  peering  about  in  the 
hall,  ran  against  him. 

"Beg  pardon,  but  can  you  tell  me " 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Saxton,  are  you  acquainted  in 
this  rookery?"  It  was  Fenton,  who  carried  a  brown 
parcel  under  his  arm  and  appeared  annoyed. 

"No ;  but  I'm  learning,"  John  answered.  "I'm  look 
ing  for  the  offices  of  the  Traction  Company.  Its  light 
seems  to  be  hid  under  a  bushel." 

"I'm  looking  for  it,  too,"  said  Fenton.  "Some  humor 
ist  seems  to  have  changed  the  numbers  on  this  floor." 

They  traversed  the  halls  of  several  floors  in  an  effort  to 
find  the  numbers  specified  in  the  notice.  Fenton  swore 
in  an  agreeable  tone  and  occasionally  kicked  at  a  door 
in  his  rage.  Saxton  called  to  him  presently  from  a  dark 
corner  where  he  held  up  a  lighted  match  to  read  the 
number  on  the  transom. 


BROKEN  GLASS  301 

"Here's  our  number,  but  there's  no  name  on  the  door." 

Fenton  advanced  upon  the  door  with  long  strides,  but 
it  did  not  open  as  he  grasped  the  knob.  He  kicked  it 
sharp ly,  but  there  was  still  no  response  from  within. 

"What  time  is  it,  Saxton  ?"  he  asked  over  his  shoulder, 
without  abating  his  pounding  or  knocking. 

Saxton  stepped  back  and  peered  into  his  watch. 

"Five  minutes  of  nine."  He  was  aware  now  that 
something  important  was  in  progress.  He  did  not  know 
Fenton  well,  but  he  knew  that  he  was  the  attorney  for 
Porter  and  the  Clarkson  National,  and  that  he  was  a 
serious  character  who  did  not  beat  on  doors  unless  he 
had  business  on  the  inside.  Fenton  now  called  out 
loudly,  demanding  admission.  There  was  a  low  sound 
of  voices  and  a  sharp  noise  of  chairs  being  pushed  over 
an  uncarpeted  floor  within;  but  the  knob  which  Fenton 
still  held  and  shook  did  not  turn. 

On  the  inside  of  the  door  Timothy  Margrave  and 
Horton,  the  president,  Barnes,  the  secretary,  and  Per- 
cival,  the  treasurer  of  the  Clarkson  Traction  Company, 
were  holding  the  annual  meeting  of  that  corporation, 
in  conformity  with  its  articles  of  association,  and  accord 
ing  to  the  duly  advertised  notice  as  required  by  the 
statutes  in  such  cases  made  and  provided.  They  had, 
however,  anticipated  the  hour  slightly ;  but  this  was  not, 
Margrave  said,  an  important  matter.  His  notions  of: 
the  proper  way  of  holding  business  meetings  were  based 
on  his  long  experience  in  managing  ward  primaries. 

Horton,  the  president,  called  the  meeting  to  order. 
"Well,  boys,"  said  Margrave,  "there  ain't  any  use  wait 
ing  on  the  other  fellows.     Business  is  business  and  we 
might  as  well  get  through  with  it." 


302  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"Shall  we  hear  the  report  of  the  secretary  and  treas 
urer?"  the  president  asked  Margrave  deferentially. 

"I  move  that  we  pass  that,"  said  Margrave.  He  was 
smoothing  out  the  certificates  of  his  shares  on  the  table. 
"I  move  that  we  proceed  at  once  to  the  election  of  officers 
of  the  .company.  Is  the  door  locked  ?" 

"Sure/5  said  Barnes,  the  secretary,  but  he  went  over 
and  tried  it.  "I  guess  Porter  ain't  coming,"  he  said  in 
a  tone  of  regret  that  was  intended  to  be  facetious,  "and 
he  must  have  forgotten  to  send  proxies." 

"I  vote  twenty-five  hundred  and  ninety-seven  shares 
of  the  common  stock  of  this  company;  you  gentlemen 
haven't  more  than  that,  have  you  ?"  The  fact  was  that 
the  three  officers  present  owned  only  one  share  each  as 
their  strict  legal  qualification  for  holding  office. 

"I  think  the  minutes  ought  to  show,"  said  the  secre 
tary,  "that  these  were  the  only  shares  represented,  and 
that  due  advertisement  was  published  according  to  law, 
but  that  owing  to  the  loss  of  the  stock  register,  written 
notice  to  individual  stockholders  was  given  only  to  such 
holders  of  certificates  as  disclosed  themselves." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Margrave.  "You  fix  it  up, 
Barnes,  and  you'd  better  get  Congreve  to  see  that  it's 
done  with  the  legal  frills."  Congreve  was  the  local 
counsel  of  Margrave's  railroad,  and  was  a  man  that 
could  be  trusted. 

"I  move,"  said  Barnes,  "that  we  proceed  to  the  elec 
tion  of  officers  for  the  ensuing  year." 

"And  I  move,"  said  Percival,  "that  the  secretary  be 
instructed  to  cast  the  ballot  of  the  stockholders  for 
Timothy  Margrave  for  president." 

"Consent,"  exclaimed  Barnes,  hurriedly. 


BROKEN  GLASS  303 

Steps  could  be  heard  in  the  outer  hall,  and  Margrave 
looked  at  his  watch. 

"I  move  that  we  adjourn  to  meet  at  my  office  at  two 
o'clock,  to  conclude  the  election  of  officers." 

Some  one  was  shaking  the  outside  door. 

"Can't  we  finish  now?"  asked  Horton,  who  had  been 
promised  the  vice-presidency.  He  and  the  other  officers 
were  afraid  of  Margrave,  and  were  reluctant  to  have 
their  own  elections  deferred  even  for  a  few  hours. 

There  was  another  knock  at  the  door. 

"At  two  o'clock,"  said  Margrave  decisively,  as  the 
knocking  at  the  door  was  renewed.  He  gathered  up  his 
certificates  and  prepared  to  leave. 

Saxton,  standing  with  Fenton  in  the  dark  hall,  re 
ferred  to  his  watch  again. 

"Shall  we  go  in  ?"  he  asked. 

The  lawyer  dropped  the  knob  of  the  door  and  drew 
back  out  of  the  way. 

"It's  too  bad  it's  glass/'  said  Saxton,  setting  his 
shoulder  against  the  wooden  frame  over  the  lock.  The 
lock  held,  but  the  door  bent  away  from  it.  He  braced 
his  feet  and  drove  his  shoulder  harder  into  the  corner, 
at  the  same  time  pressing  his  hip  against  the  lock.  It 
refused  to  yield,  but  the  glass  cracked,  and  finally  half 
of  it  fell  with  a  crash  to  the  floor  within. 

"Don't  hurry  yourselves,  gentlemen,"  said  Fenton, 
coolly,  speaking  through  the  ragged  edges  of  broken 
glass.  Saxton  thrust  his  hand  in  to  the  catch  and 
opened  the  door. 

"Why,  it's  only  Fenton,"  called  Margrave  in  a  pleas 
ant  tone  to  his  associates,  who  had  effected  their  exits 
safely  into  a  rear  room. 


304:  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"It's  only  Fenton,"  continued  the  lawyer,  stepping 
inside,  "but  HI  have  to  trouble  you  to  wait  a  few 
minutes." 

"Oh,  the  meeting's  adjourned,  if  that's  what  you 
want,"  said  Margrave. 

"That  won't  go  down,"  said  Fenton,  placing  his  pack 
age  on  the  table.  "You're  old  enough  to  know,  Mar 
grave,  that  one  man  can't  hold  a  stockholders'  meeting 
behind  locked  doors  in  a  pigeon  roost." 

"The  meeting  was  held  regular,  at  the  hour  and  place 
advertised,"  said  Margrave  with  dignity.  "A  majority 
of  the  stockholders  were  represented." 

"By  you,  I  suppose,"  said  Fenton,  who  had  walked 
into  the  room  followed  by  Saxton. 

"By  me,"  said  Margrave.  He  had  not  taken  off  his 
overcoat  and  he  now  began  to  button  it  about  jhis  portly 
figure. 

"How  many  shares  have  you  ?"  asked  the  lawyer,  seat 
ing  himself  on  the  edge  of  the  table. 

"I  suppose  you  think  I'm  working  a  bluff,  but  I've 
really  got  the  stuff  this  time,  Fenton.  To  be  real  decent 
with  you  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  I've  got  exactly 
twenty-five  hundred  and  ninety-seven  shares  of  this 
stock.  I  guess  that's  a  majority  all  right.  Now  one 
good  turn  deserves  another;  how  much  has  Porter  got? 
I  don't  care  a  damn,  but  I'd  just  like  to  know."  He 
stood  by  the  table  a>nd  ostentatiously  played  with  his 
certificates  to  make  Fenton's  humiliation  all  the  keener. 
Margrave's  associates  stood  at  the  back  of  the  room  and 
watched  him  admiringly.  Fenton's  bundle  still  lay  on 
the  table,  and  Saxton  stood  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets 
watching  events.  There  had  been  no  chance  for  him  to 


BKOKEN  GLASS  305 

explain  to  Fenton  his  reasons  for  seeking  the  offices  of 
the  Traction  Company  and  it  had  pleased  Margrave  to 
ignore  his  presence;  Fenton  paid  no  further  attention 
to  him.  He  wondered  at  Fenton's  forbearance,  and 
expected  the  lawyer  to  demolish  Margrave,  but  Fenton 
said: 

"You  are  quite  right,  Margrave.  I  hold  for  Mr. 
Porter  exactly  twenty-three  hundred  and  fifty  shares." 

Margrave  nodded  patronizingly. 

"Just  a  little  under  the  mark." 

"You  may  make  that  twenty-four  hundred  even,"  said 
Saxton,  "if  it  will  do  you  any  good." 

"I'm  still  shy,"  said  Fenton.  "Our  friend  clearly 
has  the  advantage." 

"I  suppose  if  you'd  known  how  near  you'd  come,  you'd 
have  hustled  pretty  hard  for  the  others,"  said  Margrave, 
sympathetically. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know !"  said  Fenton,  with  the  taunting 
inflection  which  gives  slang  to  the  phrase.  He  did  not 
seem  greatly  disturbed.  Saxton  expected  him  to  try  to 
make  terms;  but  the  lawyer  yawned  in  a  preoccupied 
way,  before  he  said : 

"So  long  as  the  margin's  so  small,  you'd  better  be 
decent  and  hold  your  stockholders'  meeting  according 
to  law  and  let  us  in.  I'm  sure  Mr.  Saxton  and  I  would 
be  of  great  assistance — wise  counsel  and  all  that." 

Margrave  laughed  his  horse  laugh.  "You're  a  pretty 
good  fellow,  Fenton,  and  I'm  sorry  we  can't  do  business 
together." 

"Oh,  well,  if  you  won't,  you  won't."  Fenton  took  up 
his  bundle  and  turned  to  the  door. 

"I  suppose  you've  got  large  chunks  of  Traction  bonds, 


306  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

too,  Margrave.  There's  nothing  like  going  in  deep  in 
these  things/' 

Margrave  winked. 

"Bonds  be  damned.  I've  been  hearing  for  four  years 
that  Traction  bondholders  were  going  to  tear  up  the 
earth,  but  I  guess  those  old  frosts  down  in  New  Eng 
land  won't  foreclose  on  me.  I'll  pay  'em  their  interest 
as  soon  as  I  get  to  going  and  they'll  think  I'm  hot  stuff. 
And  say !"  he  ejaculated,  suddenly,  "if  Porter's  got  any 
of  those  bonds  don't  you  get  gay  with  'em.  It's  a  big 
thing  for  the  town  to  have  a  practical  railroad  man  like 
me  running  the  street  car  lines;  and  if  I  can't  make 
'em  pay  nobody  can." 

"You're  not  conceited  or  anything,  are  you,  Mar 
grave  ?" 

"By  the  way,  young  man,"  said  Margrave,  addressing 
Saxton  for  the  first  time,  "we  won't  charge  you  anything 
for  breakage  to-day,  but  don't  let  it  happen  again." 

Margrave  lingered  to  reassure  and  instruct  his  associ 
ates  as  to  the  adjourned  meeting,  and  Saxton  went  out 
with  Fenton. 

"That  was  rather  tame,"  said  John,  as  he  and  Fenton 
reached  the  street  together.  "I  hoped  there  would  be 
some  fun.  These  shares  belong  to  a  Boston  friend  and 
they're  for  sale." 

"I  wonder  how  Porter  came  to  miss  them,"  said  Fen 
ton,  grimly.  "You'd  better  keep  them  as  souvenirs  of 
the  occasion.  The  engraving  isn't  bad-  I  turn  up  this 
way."  They  paused  at  the  corner.  He  still  carried  his 
bundle  and  he  drew  from  his  pocket  now  a  number  of 
documents  in  manila  jackets. 


BROKEN  GLASS  307 

"I  have  a  little  errand  at  the  Federal  Court."  They 
stood  by  a  letter  box  and  the  cars  of  the  Traction  Com 
pany  wheezed  and  clanged  up  Varney  Street  past  them. 

"The  fact  is,"  he  said,  "that  Mr.  Porter  owns  all  of 
the  bonds  of  the  Traction  Company." 

Saxton  nodded.  He  understood  now  why  the  stock 
holders'  meeting  had  not  disturbed  Fenton. 

"This  is  an  ugly  mess/'  the  lawyer  continued.  "It 
would  have  suited  me  better  to  control  the  company 
through  the  stock  so  long  as  we  had  so  much,  but  we 
didn't  quite  make  it.  You're  friendly  to  Mr.  Porter, 
aren't  you  ?" 

"Yes ;  I  don't  know  how  he  feels  toward  me — " 

"We  can't  ask  him  just  now,  so  we'll  take  it  for 
granted.  The  court  will  unquestionably  appoint  a  re 
ceiver,  independent  of  this  morning's  proceedings,  and 
if  you  don't  mind,  I'll  ask  to  have  you  put  in  tempo 
rarily,  or  until  we  can  learn  Mr.  Porter's  wishes." 

"But — there  are  other  and  better  men — " 

"Very  likely ;  but  I  particularly  wish  this." 

"There's  Mr.  Wheaton — isn't  he  the  natural  man — in 
the  bank  and  all  that?"  urged  Saxton. 

"Mr.  Wheaton  has  a  very  exacting  position  and  it 
would  be  unfair  to  add  to  his  duties,"  said  the  lawyer. 
"Will  you  keep  where  I  can  find  you  the  rest  of  the  day  ?" 

"Yes/'  said  John;  "I'll  be  at  my  office  as  soon  as  I 
hit  a  tub  and  a  breakfast.  But  you  can  do  better,"  he 
called  after  Fenton,  who  was  walking  rapidly  toward  the 
post-office  building. 

Wheaton  sat  at  his  desk  all  the  morning  hoping  that 
Fenton  would  drop  in  to  give  him  the  result  of  the  Trac- 


308  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

tion  meeting;  but  the  lawyer  did  not  appear  at  the  bank. 
He  concluded  that  there  was  little  chance  of  learning  of 
the  outcome  of  the  meeting  until  he  saw  the  afternoon 
papers.  A  dumb  terror  possessed  him  as  he  reflected 
upon  the  events  of  the  past  day.  It  might  be  that  the 
shares  which  Margrave  had  forced  from  him  would  carry 
the  balance  of  power.  He  felt  keenly  the  ignominy  of 
his  interview  of  the  night  before  at  the  bank;  he  was 
sure  that  if  he  could  do  it  over  again  he  would  eject 
Margrave  and  dare  him  to  do  his  worst. 

He  could  dramatize  himself  into  a  very  heroic  figure 
in  combating  Margrave.  If  only  Margrave  had  not  seen 
Snyder!  It  was  long  ago  that  he  and  his  brother  had 
made  acquaintance  with  crime:  that  was  the  merest 
slip ;  it  was  his  only  error.  It  had  been  kind  of  William 
Wheaton  to  take  the  full  burden  of  that  theft  upon  him 
self ;  yet  he  thought  with  repugnance  of  his  brother's 
long  career  of  crime ;  he  detested  the  weakness  of  a  man 
who  chose  crime  and  squalor  as  his  portion.  He  talked 
to  customers  and  did  his  detail  work  as  usual,  and  went 
out  for  luncheon  to  a  near-by  restaurant,  as  he  had  done 
when  he  was  a  clerk,  making  lack  of  time  an  excuse  for 
not  going  to  The  Bachelors'  or  the  club.  He  felt  a 
sudden  impulse  to  keep  very  much  to  himself,  as  if 
security  lay  in  doing  so.  His  confidence  returned  as 
he  reviewed  his  relations  with  Timothy  Margrave.  He 
would  demand  the  two  certificates  of  Margrave  whether 
they  had  been  used  against  Porter  or  not. 

Having  reached  this  decision  by  the  time  he  came  in 
from  luncheon  he  went  to  the  telephone  and  called  Eve 
lyn  to  ask  -her  how  her  father  was  and  to  report  his 


BROKEN  GLASS  309 

delivery  of  the  papers  in  her  father's  box  to  Mr.  Fenton, 
as  instructed.  Evelyn  spoke  hopefully  of  her  father's 
illness ;  there  were  no  unfavorable  symptoms,  and  every 
thing  pointed  to  his  recovery.  It  was  very  sweet  to  hear 
her  voice  in  this  way;  and  he  went  to  his  desk  com 
forted. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

JOHN  SAXTON",  EECEIVER 

At  two  o'clock  Warry  Raridan  sat  on  a  table  in  the 
United  States  court  room,  kicking  his  heels  together  and 
smoking  a  cigarette.  A  number  of  reporters  stood  about ; 
the  ex-president,  the  secretary  and  the  treasurer  of  the 
Clarkson  Traction  Company  loafed  within  the  space  set 
apart  for  attorneys  and  played  with  their  hats.  The 
court  was  sitting  in  chambers,  and  those  who  waited 
knew  that  in  the  judge's  private  room  something  was 
happening.  The  clerk  came  out  presently  with  his  hands 
full  of  papers  and  affixed  the  official  file  mark  to  them. 
Raridan  was  waiting  for  Fenton  and  Saxton  and  when 
they  appeared  together,  he  went  across  the  room  to  meet 
them. 

"How  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"It's  all  right,"  said  Fenton.  "Saxton  has  been  ap 
pointed,  pending  a  hearing  of  the  case  on  its  merits, 
which  can't  be  had  until  Mr.  Porter  is  out  again." 

"I  knew  it  was  coming,"  said  Raridan,  in  a  low  tone 
to  Saxton,  "so  I  came  up  to  say  that  I'm  glad  you're 
recognized  by  the  powers." 

"But  it's  only  temporary,"  said  John.  "The  little 
interest  I  represent  wouldn't  justify  it,  of  course.  I'm 
still  dazed  that  Fenton  should  have  urged  my  appoint 
ment  on  the  court." 

310 


JOHK  SAXTOK,  BECEIVER  311 

"What  I'm  here  for  is  to  go  on  your  bond,  old  man." 

"But  Fenton  has  fixed  that, — some  of  the  bank  di 
rectors." 

"All  right,  John." 

Saxton  was  walking  away,  but  he  turned  back.  Some 
thing  had  gone  amiss  with  Earidan.  Several  times  in 
their  friendship  Saxton  had  unconsciously  offended  him. 
He  saw  that  Warry  was  really  hurt  now. 

"I  appreciate  it,  Warry,  and  it's  like  you  to  offer;  of 
course  I'd  be  glad  to  have  you." 

"Well,  I  hoped  I  was  as  good  as  those  other  fellows," 
said  Earidan,  more  cheerfully;  and  he  went  to  the 
clerk's  desk  and  signed  the  bond. 

Margrave  came  out  now  with  his  lawyer,  and  they 
were  joined  by  Margrave's  allies  of  the  morning.  Mar 
grave  stopped  to  give  the  reporters  his  side  of  the  story. 
He  assured  them  that  this  was  merely  a  contest  between 
two  interests  for  the  control  of  the  Traction  Company. 
There  had  been  a  misunderstanding,  and  until  the  dif 
ferences  between  the  two  factions  of  stockholders  could 
be  reconciled,  the  business  of  the  company  would  be  man 
aged  by  a  receiver,  who  was,  he  said,  "friendly  to  all 
parties."  The  fact  was  that  he  had  objected  strenuously  to 
Saxton's  appointment,  but  Fenton  had  insisted  on  it 
and  the  court  had  paid  a  good  deal  of  attention  to  what 
Fenton  said.  Margrave  made  much  to  the  reporters  of 
his  own  election  to  the  presidency,  and  intimated  to  them 
that  the  receiver  would  soon  be  discharged  and  that  he 
would  assume  the  active  management  of  affairs. 

The  papers  that  had  been  filed  in  the  case  disclosed 
a  somewhat  different  situation,  which  was  fully  laid 
before  the  public,  greatly  to  its  surprise.  It  appeared 


312  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

that  William  Porter  owned  all  the  bonds  of  the  com 
pany,  and  only  narrowly  missed  the  stock  control.  The 
situation  was  thoroughly  interesting.  A  contention 
between  Porter  and  Margrave  was  novel  in  the  history 
of  Clarkson  and  the  press  made  the  most  of  it.  The 
Gazette,  Margrave's  paper,  proved  him  to  be  wholly  in 
the  right,  and  cited  the  summary  action  of  the  court  in 
appointing  an  inexperienced  man  to  the  receivership  as 
another  proof  of  the  brutal  abuse  of  power  by  federal 
courts. 

Margrave  had  put  none  of  his  own  money  into  Trac 
tion  stock,  but  had  invested  funds  belonging  to  the 
stockholders  of  the  Transcontinental,  who  had  every 
confidence  in  his  sagacity,  and  who  trusted  him  implicit 
ly.  He  advised  them  of  the  receivership  in  terms  which 
led  them  to  believe  that  he  had  brought  it  about  as  a 
part  of  his  own  plans.  He  maintained  an  air  of  mystery 
and  winked  knowingly  at  friends  who  joked  him  about 
the  little  coup  by  which  Porter,  though  sick  in  bed,  had, 
as  they  said,  "cleaned  him  up."  He  told  those  who  flat 
tered  him  by  twitting  him  on  this  score  that  he  guessed 
Tim  Margrave  hadn't  lost  his  grip  yet,  and  that  before 
he  was  knocked  out,  the  place  of  eternal  damnation 
would  have  been  transformed  into  a  skating  rink. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

GREEN  CHARTREUSE 

There  is  a  common  law  of  character  which  is  greater 
than  the  canons.  It  fills  many  volumes  of  records  in 
the  high  court  of  Experience,  and  we  add  to  it  daily 
by  our  instinctive  decisions  in  small  matters ;  but  only 
the  finer  natures,  highly  endowed  with  discernment, 
master  its  intricacies.  The  decalogue  is  a  safe  guide- 
post  on  the  great  highway  of  life;  but  it  does  not  avail 
the  lost  pilgrim  who  stumbles  in  remote  by-paths.  The 
spirit  is  the  only  arbiter  of  the  nicer  distinctions  be 
tween  right  and  wrong.  James  Wheaton  did  not  steal ; 
he  would  do  no  murder;  he  was  not  even  unusually 
covetous.  If  the  tests  which  Destiny  applied  to  him 
had  related  to  the  great  fundamentals  of  conduct,  he 
would  not  have  been  found  wanting;  but  they  were 
directed  against  seemingly  unimportant  weaknesses, 
along  the  lines  of  his  least  resistance  to  evil. 

A  week  had  passed  since  Saxton's  appointment  to  the 
receivership  and  Wheaton  went  to  and  from  his  work 
with  many  misgivings.  Several  of  Wheaton's  friends 
had  confided  to  him  their  belief  that  he  ought  to  have 
been  appointed  receiver  instead  of  Saxton,  and  there  was 
little  that  he  could  say  to  this,  except  that  he  had  no 
time  for  it.  He  had  become  nervous  and  distraught^ 

313 


314  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

and  was  irritable  under  the  jesting  of  his  associates  at 
The  Bachelors'.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  joking  at 
their  table  for  several  days  after  Saxton's  appointment 
over  Margrave's  discomfiture,  to  which  Wheaton  con 
tributed  little.  He  felt  decidedly  ill  at  ease  under  it. 
Thompson,,  the  cashier,  had  come  home,  and  Wheaton 
found  his  presence  irksome. 

He  had  seen  Margrave  several  times  at  the  club  since 
their  last  interview  at  the  bank  and  Margrave  had 
nodded  distantly,  as  if  he  hardly  remembered  Wheaton. 
Wheaton  assumed  that  sooner  or  later  Margrave  would 
offer  to  pay  him  for  his  shares  of  Traction  stock.  But 
while  the  loss  of  his  own  certificate,  under  all  the  cir 
cumstances,  did  not  trouble  him,  Margrave's  appropria 
tion  of  Evelyn  Porter's  shares  was  an  unpleasant  fact 
that  haunted  all  his  waking  hours. 

One  evening,  a  week  after  the  receivership  incident, 
lie  resolved  to  go  to  Margrave  and  demand,  at  any 
hazard,  the  return  of  Evelyn's  certificate.  The  idea 
seized  firm  hold  upon  him,  and  he  set  out  at  once  for 
Margrave's  house.  He  inquired  for  Margrave  at  the 
door,  and  the  maid  asked  him  to  go  into  the  library. 
They  were  entertaining  at  dinner,  she  told  him,  and  he 
said  he  would  wait.  He  walked  nervously  up  and  down 
in  the  well-appointed  library,  where  Warry  Karidan's 
purchases  looked  out  at  him  from  the  solid  mahogany 
bookcases.  He  heard  the  hum  of  voices  faintly  from 
the  dining-room. 

He  picked  up  a  magazine  and  tried  to  read,  but  the 
printed  pages  did  not  hold  his  eyes.  He  did  not  know 
how  Margrave  would  treat  him,  and  he  would  have  es 
caped  from  the  house  if  he  had  dared.  Margrave  came 


GEEEN"  CHAETEEUSE  315 

in  presently,  fat  and  ugly  in  his  evening  clothes.  He 
welcomed  Wheaton  noisily  and  introduced  him  to  his 
guests,  two  directors  of  the  Transcontinental  and  their 
wives,  who  were  passing  through  town  on  their  way  to 
California. 

Mrs.  Margrave  and  Mabel  greeted  Wheaton  cordially. 
Mabel  was  dressed  to  impress  the  ladies  from  New  York, 
and  was  succeeding.  The  colored  butler  passed  coffee 
and  cigars  and  green  chartreuse,  and  when  Wheaton  de 
clined  a  cigar,  Mabel  brought  him  a  cigarette  from  the 
taboret  from  which  "The  Men"  were  helped  to  such 
trifles.  Mrs.  Margrave  was  oppressed  by  the  presence  in 
her  home  of  so  many  millions  and  so  much  social  dis 
tinction  as  her  guests  represented,  and  she  contributed 
only  murmurs  of  assent  to  the  conversation  which 
Mabel  led  with  ease,  discoursing  in  her  most  Tyring- 
hamesque  manner  of  yacht  races,  horse  shows  and  like 
matters  of  metropolitan  interest.  Wheaton  was  glad 
now  that  he  had  come;  Margrave's  guests  were  people 
worth  meeting;  he  liked  the  talk,  and  the  chartreuse 
gave  elegance  to  the  occasion. 

Margrave  accommodated  his  heavy  frame  to  the  soft 
indulgence  of  a  huge  leather  chair  and  drained  the 
liqueur  from  his  glass  at  a  gulp. 

"Well,  gentlemen,  I'm  glad  Mr.  Wheaton  could  drop 
in  to-night.  He's  a  friend  of  the  road  and  of  ours.  If 
everybody  treated  the  Transcontinental  as  well  as  he 
does, — well,  a  good  many  things  would  be  different !" 

He  looked  at  Wheaton  admiringly,  and  his  guests  fol 
lowed  his  gaze  with  polite  interest. 

ffWhy,  gentlemen,"  said  Margrave,  straining  forward 
until  his  face  was  purple,  "Wheaton  did  his  level  best  for 


316  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

me  in  that  Traction  deal ;  yes,,  sir,,  he  worked  with  us  on 
that,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  fool  judge  we'd  have 
had  it  all  fixed."  He  leaned  back  and  nodded  at 
Wheaton  benignantly. 

Wheaton  had  merely  murmured  at  intervals  during 
this  deliverance.  He  did  not  know  what  Margrave 
meant.  He  moved  over  by  Mrs.  Margrave  and  tried  to 
make  talk  with  her.  As  soon  as  he  felt  that  he  could  go 
decently,  he  rose  and  shook  hands  with  the  visiting  gen 
tlemen  and  bowed  to  the  ladies.  Margrave  took  him  by 
the  arm  with  an  air  of  great  intimacy  and  affection  and 
walked  with  him  to  the  hall,  where  he  made  much  of 
helping  Wheaton  into  his  overcoat. 

"I  wanted  to  see  you  on  a  business  matter/'  Wheaton 
began,  in  a  low  tone. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Margrave  loudly,  "I  forgot  to  mail 
you  that  check.  I've  been  terribly  rushed  lately ;  but  in 
time,  my  boy,  in  time !" 

The  people  in  the  library  could  hardly  have  failed  to 
hear  every  word. 

"Oh,  not  that,  not  that !  I  mean  that  other  certifi 
cate."  Wheaton  was  trying  to  drop  the  conversation  to 
a  whispering  basis  as  he  drew  on  his  gloves.  Margrave 
had  again  taken  his  arm  and  was  walking  with  him  to 
ward  the  front  door,  talking  gustily  all  the  while.  He 
swung  the  door  open  and  followed  Wheaton  out  upon 
the  front  step. 

"A  glorious  night !  glorious !"  he  ejaculated,  puffing 
from  his  walk.  His  hand  wandered  up  Wheaton's  arm 
until  it  reached  his  collar,  and  after  he  had  allowed 
his  fingers  to  grasp  this  lingeringly,  he  gave  Wheaton  a 


GREEN  CHARTREUSE  317 

sudden  push  forward,  still  holding  his  collar,  then  raised 
his  fat  leg  and  kicked  him  from  the  step. 

"Come  again,  Jim  ?"  he  called  pleasantly,  as  he  backed 
within  the  door  and  closed  it  to  return  to  his  guests. 

Wheaton  reached  his  room,  filled  with  righteous  in 
dignation.  He  might  have  known  that  a  coarse  fellow 
like  Margrave  cared  only  for  people  whom  he  could  con 
trol;  and  he  decided  after  a  night  of  reflection  that  he 
had  acted  handsomely  in  saving  Porter's  package  of 
securities  from  Margrave  the  night  of  the  encounter  at 
the  bank.  The  more  he  thought  of  it,  the  more  certain 
he  grew  that  he  could,  if  it  became  necessary  to  pro 
tect  himself  in  any  way,  turn  the  tables  on  Margrave. 
He  called  Margrave  a  scoundrel  in  his  thoughts,  and 
was  half  persuaded  to  go  at  once  to  Fenton  and  explain 
why  Margrave  had  been  at  the  bank  on  the  night  that 
Teuton  had  found  him  there. 

Wheaton  continued  to  call  at  the  Porters'  daily  to 
make  inquiry  for  the  head  of  the  house.  On  some  of 
these  occasions  he  saw  Evelyn,  but  Mrs.  Whipple,  whose 
staying  qualities  were  born  of  a  rigid  military  sense  of 
duty,  was  always  there;  and  he  had  not  seen  Evelyn 
alone  since  she  gave  him  her  father's  key.  Other  young 
men,  friends  of  Evelyn,  called,  he  found,  just  as  he  did, 
to  make  inquiry  about  Mr.  Porter.  Mrs.  Whipple  had  a 
way  of  saying  very  artlessly,  and  with  a  little  sigh  that 
carried  weight,  that  Mr.  Raridan  was  so  very  kind '. 
Wheaton  wanted  to  be  very  kind  himself,  but  he  never 
happened  to  be  about  when  the  servants  were  busy  and 
there  were  important  prescriptions  to  be  filled  at  the 
apothecary's. 

On  the  whole  he  was  very  miserable  and  when,  one 


318  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

morning,  while  Porter's  condition  was  still  precarious 
he  received  a  letter  from  Snyder,  postmarked  Spokane, 
declaring  that  money  was  immediately  required  to  sup 
port  him  until  he  could  find  work,,  he  closed  that  issue 
finally  in  a  brief  letter  which  was  not  couched  in 
diplomatic  language.  The  four  days  that  were  neces 
sary  for  the  delivery  of  this  letter  had  hardly  passed 
before  Wheaton  received  a  telegram  sharply  demand 
ing  a  remittance  by  wire.  This  Wheaton  did  not 
answer;  he  had  done  all  that  he  intended  to  do  for 
William  Snyder,  who  was  well  out  of  the  way,  and 
much  more  safely  so  if  he  had  no  money.  The  corre 
spondence  was  not  at  an  end,  however,  for  a  threaten 
ing  letter  in  Snyder's  eccentric  orthography  followed, 
and  this,  too,  Wheaton  dropped  into  his  waste  paper 
basket  and  dismissed  from  his  mind. 


CHAPTEK  XXXI 

PUZZLING  AUTOGRAPHS 

The  affairs  of  the  Traction  Company  proved  to  be  in 
a  wretched  tangle.  Saxton  employed  an  expert  account 
ant  to  open  a  set  of  books  for  the  company,  while  he 
gave  his  own  immediate  attention  to  the  physical  condi 
tion  of  the  property.  The  company's  service  was  a  by 
word  and  a  hissing  in  the  town,  and  he  did  what  he 
could  to  better  it,  working  long  hours,  but  enjoying  the 
labor.  It  had  been  a  sudden  impulse  on  Fenton's  part  to 
have  Saxton  made  receiver.  In  Saxton's  first  days  at 
Clarkson  he  had  taken  legal  'advice  of  Fenton  in  matters 
which  had  already  been  placed  in  the  lawyer's  hands  by 
the  bank;  but  most  of  these  had  long  been  closed,  and 
Saxton  had  latterly  gone  to  Earidan  for  such  legal 
assistance  as  he  needed  from  time  to  time.  Fenton  had 
firmly  intended  asking  Wheaton's  appointment;  this 
seemed  to  him  perfectly  natural  and  proper  in  view  of 
Wheaton's  position  in  the  bank  and  his  relations  with 
Porter,  which  were  much  less  confidential  than  even 
Fenton  imagined. 

Fenton  had  been  disturbed  to  find  Margrave  and 
Wheaton  together  in  the  directors'  room  the  night  be 
fore  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Traction  stockholders. 
He  could  imagine  no  business  that  would  bring  them 

319 


320  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

together ;  and  the  hour  and  the  place  were  not  propitious 
for  forming  new  alliances  for  the  bank.  Wheaton  had 
appeared  agitated  as  he  passed  out  the  packet  of  bonds 
and  stocks;  and  Margrave's  efforts  at  gaiety  had  only 
increased  Fenton's  suspicions.  From  every  point  of 
view  it  was  unfortunate  that  Porter  should  have  fallen 
ill  just  at  this  time;  but  it  was,  on  the  whole,  just  as 
well  to  take  warning  from  circumstances  that  were  even 
slightly  suspicious,  and  he  had  decided  that  Wheaton 
should  not  have  the  receivership.  He  had  not  con 
sidered  Saxton  in  this  connection  until  the  hour  of  the 
Traction  meeting;  and  he  had  inwardly  debated  it 
until  the  moment  of  his  decision  at  the  street  corner. 

He  had  expected  to  supervise  Saxton's  acts,  but  the 
receiver  had  taken  hold  of  the  company's  affairs  with 
a  zeal  and  an  intelligence  which  surprised  him.  Sax- 
ton  wasn't  so  slow  as  he  looked,  he  said  to  the  federal 
judge,  who  had  accepted  Saxton  wholly  on  Fenton's 
recommendation.  Within  a  fortnight  Saxton  had  im 
proved  the  service  of  the  company  to  the  public  so 
markedly  that  the  newspapers  praised  him.  He  reduced 
the  office  force  to  a  working  basis  and  installed  a  cashier 
who  was  warranted  not  to  steal.  It  appeared  that  the 
motormen  and  conductors  held  their  positions  by  paying 
tribute  to  certain  minor  officers,  and  Saxton  applied 
heroic  treatment  to  these  abuses  without  ado. 

The  motormen  and  conductors  grew  used  to  the  big 
blond  in  the  long  gray  ulster  who  was  forever  swinging 
himself  aboard  the  cars  and  asking  them  questions. 
They  affectionately  called  him  "Whiskers,"  for  no  ob 
vious  reason,  and  the  report  that  Saxton  had,  in  one  of 
the  power-houses,  filled  his  pipe  with  sweepings  of  to- 


PUZZLING  AUTOGBAPHS  321 

bacco  factories  known  in  the  trade  as  "Trolleyman's 
Special/'  had  further  endeared  him  to  those  men  whose 
pay  checks  bore  his  name  as  receiver.  In  snow-storms 
the  Traction  Company  had  usually  given  up  with  only 
a  tame  struggle,,  but  Saxton  devised  a  new  snow-plow, 
which  he  hitched  to  a  trolley  and  drove  with  his  own 
hand  over  the  Traction  Company's  tracks. 

John  was  cleaning  out  the  desk  of  the  late  secretary 
of  the  company  one  evening  while  Earidan  read 
a  newspaper  and  waited  for  him.  Warry  was  often 
lonely  these  days.  Saxton  was  too  much  engrossed  to 
find  time  for  frivolity,  and  Mr.  Porter's  illness  cut 
sharply  in  on  Warry's  visits  to  the  Hill.  The  widow's 
clothes  lines  were  tied  in  a  hard  knot  in  the  federal 
court,  to  which  he  had  removed  them,  and  he  was  rest 
ing  while  he  waited  for  the  Transcontinental  to  exhaust 
its  usual  tactics  of  delay  and  come  to  trial.  On  Fenton's 
suggestion  Saxton  had  intrusted  to  Raridan  some  mat 
ters  pertaining  to  the  receivership,  and  these  served  to 
carry  Warry  over  an  interval  of  idleness  and  restless 
ness. 

"You  may  hang  me !"  said  Saxton  suddenly.  He  had 
that  day  unexpectedly  come  upon  the  long-lost  stock 
records  of  the  company  and  was  now  examining  them. 
Thrust  into  one  of  the  books  were  two  canceled  certifi 
cates. 

"It's  certainly  queer,"  he  said,  as  Warry  went  over  to 
his  desk.  He  spread  out  one  of  the  certificates  which 
Margrave  had  taken  from  Wheaton  the  night  before  the 
annual  meeting.  "That's  certainly  Wheaton's  endorse 
ment  all  right  enough." 


THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

Earidan  took  off  his  glasses  and  brought  his  near 
sighted  gaze  to  bear  critically  upon  the  paper. 

"There's  no  doubt  about  it." 

"And  look  at  this,  too."  Saxton  handed  him  Evelyn 
Porter's  certificate.  Earidan  examined  it  and  Evelyn's 
signature  on  the  back  with  greater  care.  He  carried 
the  paper  nearer  to  the  light,  and  scanned  it  again 
while  Saxton  watched  him  and  smoked  his  pipe. 

"You  notice  that  Wheaton  witnessed  the  signature." 

Earidan  nodded.  Saxton,  who  knew  ^  his  friend's 
moods  thoroughly,  saw  that  he  was  troubled. 

"I  can  find  no  plausible  explanation  of  that,"  said 
Saxton.  "Anybody  may  be  called  on  to  witness  a  signa 
ture;  but  I  can't  explain  this."  He  opened  the  stock 
record  and  followed  the  history  of  the  two  certificates 
from  one  page  to  another.  It  was  clear  enough  that  the 
certificates  held  by  Evelyn  Porter  and  James  Wheaton 
had  been  merged  into  one,  which  had  been  made  out  in 
the  name  of  Timothy  Margrave,  and  dated  the  day 
before  the  annual  meeting. 

"It  doesn't  make  much  difference  at  present,"  said 
Saxton.  "When  Mr.  Porter  comes  down  town  he  will 
undoubtedly  go  over  this  whole  business  and  he  can 
easily  explain  these  matters." 

"It  makes  a  lot  of  difference,"  said  Warry,  gloomily. 

"We'd  better  not  say  anything  about  this  just  now— 

not  even  to  Fenton,"  Saxton  suggested.     "I'll  take  these 

things  over  to  my  other  office  for  safe  keeping.     Some 

one  may  want  them  badly  enough  to  look  for  them." 

Earidan  sat  down  with  his  newspaper  and  pretended 
to  be  reading  until  Saxton  was  ready  to  go. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

CEOSSED   WIRES 

A  great  storm  came  out  of  the  north,  late  in  January 
and  beat  fiercely  upon  Clarkson.  It  left  a  burden  of 
snow  on  the  town  and  was  followed  by  a  week  of  bit 
ter  cold.  The  sun  shone  impotently  upon  the  great  drifts 
which  filled  the  streets;  it  seemed  curiously  remote, 
and  ashamed  of  its  failure  to  impre&s  the  white,  daz 
zling  masses.  The  wires  sang  their  song  of  the  cold; 
even  the  confused  wires  of  the  Clarkson  Traction  Com 
pany  lifted  up  their  voices,  somewhat  to  the  irritation  of 
John  Saxton,  receiver,  as  he  fought  the  snow  banks  be 
low  and  sought  to  disentangle  the  twisted  wires  above. 
Upper  Varney  Street,  beyond  Porter  Hill,  was  receiv 
ing  his  attention  late  one  afternoon  as  the  winter 
sunset  burned  red  in  the  west.  The  iron  poles  of  the 
trolley  wires  had  been  pulled  far  over  into  the  street 
by  the  blast  and  the  weight  of  snow;  and  trolley,  tele 
phone,  and  electric  light  wires  were  a  baffling  tangle 
which  workmen  were  seeking  to  straighten.  Saxton's 
men  had  detached  their  own  wires  and  were  restoring 
them  to  the  poles.  Traffic  on  the  Varney  Street  line 
would,  he  concluded,  be  resumed  on  the  morrow;  and 
he  gave  final  instructions  to  the  foreman  of  the  repair 
crew  and  turned  toward  his  office. 

323 


324  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

Evelyn  Porter,  who  had  come  out  for  the  walk  she 
had  been  taking  every  afternoon  since  the  beginning 
of  her  father's  illness,  stopped  at  the  narrow  aisle  which 
had  been  trampled  in  the  snow-piled  sidewalk  to  watch 
an  adventurous  lineman  scale  an  icy  telephone  pole. 
There  is  a  vintage  of  the  North  that  is  more  stimulat 
ing  than  any  that  comes  out  of  Southern  vineyards.  It 
brings  a  glow  to  the  cheeks,  a  sparkle  to  the  eyes,  and  a 
nimbleness  to  the  tongue  which  no  product  of  the  wine 
press  ever  gives.  It  is  a  wine  that  makes  the  heart 
leap  and  the  blood  tingle.  It  is  distilled  in  the  great 
ice-clasped  seas  of  the  North,  and  the  pine  and  balsam 
of  snowy  woods  add  their  quintessence  to  it;  it  tickles 
no  palate  but  is  assimilated  directly  into  the  blood  of 
the  brave  and  strong;  it  is  the  wine  of  youth,  of  per 
petual  youth.  Evelyn  felt  the  joy  of  it  to-day,  her 
heart  leaped  with  it, — it  was  a  delight  to  be  abroad  in 
the  pure,  cold  air.  Her  coloring  was  freshly  accented. 
The  remote  Scotch  grandmother  who  conferred  it  upon 
her,  across  years  of  migration,  would  have  rejoiced  in  it ; 
where  the  Irish  strain  maintained  its  light  of  humor 
in  her  blue  eyes,  the  gray  mist  of  the  Scotch  moors  still 
held  its  own.  There  are  women  who  are  dominated  by 
their  clothes;  but  Evelyn  Porter  was  not  one  of  them. 
Her  dark  green  skirt  might  have  belonged  to  any  other 
girl,  but  it  would  not  have  swayed  in  just  the  same  way 
to  any  other  step ;  and  her  toque  and  cape  of  sable  would 
have  lost  their  distinction  on  any  other  head  and 
shoulders.  Her  father's  convalescence  was  only  a  matter 
of  time  and  care ;  he  had  withstood  the  fever  better  than 
the  physicians  had  thought  possible,  and  there  was  no 
question  of  his  restoration  to  health.  It  was  good  to  be 


CKOSSED  WIKES  325 

free  of  the  anxious  strain,  and  the  keen  air  was  like  a 
tonic  to  her  happiness.  Saxton  recognized  her  as  he 
jumped  over  the  drifted  snow  at  the  curb  to  the  path. 
His  face,  where  it  was  visible  between  his  cap  and  col 
lar,  was  red  from  the  cold. 

"They  say  freezing  to  death's  an  easy  way, — but  I 
don't  believe  I'd  prefer  it." 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it?  I  wondered  who  the  busy  man 
was."  She  was  interested  in  the  lineman,  the  points 
of  whose  climbers  were  shaking  down  the  ice  coating  of 
the  pole  as  he  ascended. 

"Won't  you  order  that  man  to  come  down  ?  It  isn't 
nice  to  make  him  risk  his  life  for  a  wire  or  two." 

"He's  not  my  man,"  said  John,  beating  his  hands 
together,  "he's  fixing  telephone  wires,  and  besides,  he's 
not  taking  any  chances." 

Evelyn  half  turned  away  to  continue  her  walk,  still 
with  her  eyes  on  the  lineman. 

"Poor  fellow;   it  must  be  very  cold  up  there." 

"Yes,  polar  expeditions  are  usually  that  way." 

"Wretched  man,  to  pun  about  a  human  life  in  peril !" 
The  lineman  was  sitting  on  one  of  the  cross  beams,  and 
Evelyn  started  ahead,  Saxton  following. 

"Is  that  the  overcoat  ?"  she  asked,  over  her  shoulder. 

"What  overcoat  ?" 

"The  one  that's  in  the  newspapers.  Aren't  you  the 
man  in  the  gray  ulster  who  runs  the  trolleys?" 

"I've  been  too  busy  to  read  the  papers,  so  I  don't 
know." 

"It  might  pay  you  to  join  a  current  topics  class  and 
learn  what's  going  on." 


326  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"That  presupposes  a  little  knowledge.  I'd  never  pass 
the  entrance  exams." 

"You  needn't  be  afraid,  they  probably  carry  a  prep, 
department." 

"My  wires  are  down  and  the  trolley  isn't  running!" 

She  laughed,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  hear  her,  John 
thought. 

"Is  that  the  kind  of  things  you  say  ?  They  are  mak 
ing  you  out  a  humorist." 

"There's  no  harder  lot.  Who  is  this  enemy  that's 
undoing  me?" 

"There's  a  certain  person  called  Earidan.  He's  al 
ways  telling  me  of  the  things  you  say." 

"The  villain !  I  merely  lecture  him  for  his  good ; 
and  so  he  thought  I  was  joking!" 

They  had  reached  the  Porter  grounds  where  the  walk 
had  been  cleared,  and  they  stamped  the  snow  from  their 
shoes  on  the  cement  pavement  and  walked  on  together. 
Evelyn  dropped  her  tone  of  raillery,  and  John  asked 
about  her  father.  John  had  followed  Mr.  Porter's  sick 
ness  through  Earidan's  reports,  and  had  called  at  the 
house  only  a  few  times  since  the  banker's  seizure.  They 
entered  the  gate  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  walked  up 
the  long  slope  to  the  door. 
•  "Won't  you  come  in?"  she  asked. 

"I  oughtn't  to;  there's  work  waiting  for  me  down 
town." 

She  sent  the  maid  who  let  them  in  for  hot  water,  and 
threw  down  her  furs  in  the  hall  wrhile  it  was  being 
brought.  The  tea  table  had  been  moved  into  the  library 
during  Mrs.  Whipple's  visit,  and  Evelyn  left  John  to 
revive  the  fire  while  she  went  to  speak  to  her  father. 


CROSSED  WIRES  327 

Saxton  had  not  taken  off  his  coat,  and  when  she  came 
back  he  stood  buttoning  it  as  if  he  meant  to  leave. 

"It's  historic,  but  not  exactly  a  handsome  garment/' 
she  said,  shaking  the  tea  caddy. 

"You  shake  the  caddy  when  you  can't  hit  the  ball : 
new  rule  of  golf."  He  had  buttoned  his  ulster  to  the 
chin,  and  really  intended  to  go.  She  poured  the  steam 
ing  water  into  the  tea-pot,  and  walked  to  the  fire  with 
folded  arms,  shivering. 

"Of  course,  if  you  prefer  your  uniform !"  She  spread 
her  hands  to  the  flames.  Her  mood  was  new  to  him;  he 
felt  suddenly  that  he  knew  her  better  than  ever  before ; 
and  this  having  occurred  to  him  as  he  stood  watching 
her,  he  accused  himself  instantly.  He  had  no  right  to 
be  there;  no  one  had  any  right  to  be  there  but  Warry 
Earidan!  She  had  turned  swiftly  and  was  smiling  at 
him.  The  darkness  had  fallen  suddenly  outside.  The 
maid  went  about  closing  blinds  and  turning  on  the 
lights.  He  felt,  by  anticipation,  the  loneliness  that  lay 
for  him  beyond  the  soft  glow  of  this  room.  This  was, 
after  all,  only  a  moment's  respite. 

Evelyn  was  back  at  the  tea  table.  She  held  a  lump 
of  sugar  poised  above  a  cup,  and  looked  at  him  inquir 
ingly,  as  though  of  course  he  was  staying  and  wished 
his  tea.  He  unbuttoned  the  coat  and  threw  it  on  a 
chair. 

"One  lump,  thanks  I" 

"It  was  the  sandwiches  that  did  it,  I'm  sure/'  she 
said,  passing  him  a  plate  of  bread  and  butter. 

"I  should  like  to  refute  your  statement,  but  candor 
compels  me  to  admit  its  truth/'  he  answered.  "I  just 


328  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

happen  to  remember  that  I  haven't  had  luncheon  yet. 
Excuse  me  if  I  take  two." 

She  went  to  the  wall  and  pushed  a  button. 

"You're  a  foolish  person  and  I'm  going  to  punish  you. 
Father's  beef  tea  is  ready  day  and  night,  and" — she  said 
to  the  Swedish  maid, — "bring  some  more  hot  water  and 
the  decanter." 

"J'y  suis;  fy  reste.  I  think  I  have  died  and  gone  to 
Heaven." 

"You  don't  deserve  Heaven.  Why  didn't  you  tell 
me?" 

"That  I  wanted  a  sandwich  ?  They  advised  me  against 
it  as  a  kid.  We  are  taught  repression  in  Massachusetts 
and  I  try  to  live  up  to  my  training." 

He  pronounced  beef  tea  no  such  deadly  drug  as  it 
was  reported  to  be,  and  he  drank  it  until  she  was  con 
tent.  He  concocted  a  hot  toddy  while  she  twitted  him 
about  his  use  of  the  tea-table  implements  for  so  ignoble 
a  use;  and  she  made  him  talk  of  his  work  and  of  the 
Traction  Company's  affairs. 

"Mr.  Wheaton  has  explained  about  it,"  she  said,  "and 
Warry  too.  Warry  seems  to  be  very  much  interested 
in  some  work  he  is  doing  in  connection  with  it." 

"Yes,  he  does  his  work  well,  too!"  said  John,  with 
enthusiasm.  He  had  no  right  to  be  there;  but  being 
there  he  could  praise  his  friend.  He  told  her  in  detail 
about  some  of  Warry's  work.  Warry  had,  he  said,  a  legal 
mind,  and  knew  the  philosophy  of  the  law  as  only  the 
old-time  lawyers  did.  He  rose  and  replenished  the  fire 
and  went  on  talking.  Some  amusing  incidents  had 
occurred  in  the  adjustment  of  legal  questions  relating 


CEOSSED  WIRES  329 

to  the  receivership  and  he  told  of  them  in  a  way  to 
reflect  the  greatest  credit  on  Warry. 

"It  looks  awfully  complicated — the  receivership  and 
all  that.  Father  has  begun  to  ask  questions.,  but  we 
don't  encourage  him." 

"I'll  have  a  good  deal  to  explain  and  apologize  for, 
when  he  is  able  to  take  a  hand,,"  said  John. 

"I'm  sure  father  will  be  grateful.  Mr.  Wheaton  and 
Warry  are  very  enthusiastic  about  your  work."  She 
laughed  out  suddenly.  "Warry  says  you  have  made  two 
cars  go  where  .none  had  gone  before." 

"They  have  a  joke  down  town  in  refutation  of  that. 
They  illustrate  the  erratic  service  of  the  Varney  Street 
line  by  saying  that  the  cars  are  like  bananas — short, 
yellow,  and  come  in  bunches." 

He  walked  to  the  fireplace  and  took  up  the  poker. 
"I  have  been  prodigally  generous  with  Mr.  Porter's 
wood.  It  burns  awfully  fast."  The  flame  had  died 
down  to  a  few  uncertain  embers  which  he  touched  ten 
tatively  with  the  poker.  "When  it  goes  out  I'll  have  to 
go  with  it." 

"The  joke  is  poor,  Mr.  Saxton.  You  can  hardly  sus 
tain  a  reputation  on  sayings  of  that  sort."  She  put  down 
her  tea  cup  and  went  over  to  the  fire  and  poked  the 
ashes  gravely. 

"One  might  construe  those  actions  in  two  ways,"  he 
said,  meditatively,  as  if  the  subject  were  one  of  weight. 
"One  cannot  tell  whether  the  sibyl  is  trying  to  encourage 
or  to  blight  the  dying  flame.  Just  another  poke  in  that 
corner  and  it  will  be  gone." 

Evelyn  menaced  the  ember  with  the  iron  rod  but  did 
not  touch  it. 


330  THE  MAli\  CHANCE 

"The  lady's  position  is  one  of  great  delicacy/'  con 
tinued  John.  "Between  her  instinct  for  self  defense, 
and  her  gracious  hospitality,  she  wavers.  A  touch  might 
revive  the  flame,  or  it  might  extinguish  it  utterly !  She 
hesitates  between  two  inclinations— 

"Why  should  you  intimate  that  I  hesitate  ?" 

"Her  seeming  reluctance  to  apply  the  poker  to  the 
crucial  point,  speaks  for  itself,"  continued  John,  sol 
emnly,  while  Evelyn  still  hung  over  the  fitful  flame, 
which  was  growing  fainter  and  fainter.  "She's  clearly 
afraid  of  the  chance  of  resuscitating  the  fire  and  thereby 
saving  a  poor  guest  from  the  cold,  hard  world." 

Evelyn  administered  a  gentle  prod;  the  burnt  frag 
ment  of  wood  fell  apart,  the  flame  flared  hopefully  once 
and  then  passed  into  a  wraith  of  itself  that  curled 
dolorously  into  the  chimney. 

"You  see  you  made  me  do  it,"  said  Evelyn,  turning 
on  him.  He  looked  at  her  very  seriously  and  there  was 
no  mirth  in  his  laugh. 

"Good  night,"  he  said,  and  came  toward  her.  "I  feel 
like  a  burnt  sacrifice." 

"But  you  brought  it  on  yourself!  I  wish,  though, 
you'd  stay  to  dinner.  Sandwiches  aren't  very  filling." 

"In  wholesale  lots  they  are.  Mine  were  seven;  and 
my  strength  is  as  the  strength  of  ten  because  the  punch 
was  pure." 

He  had  buttoned  himself  into  his  ulster,  which  magni 
fied  his  tall,  broad  figure,  and  was  walking  toward  the 
door.  His  time  was  now  filled  with  congenial  work, 
which  he  was  doing  well,  but  still  he  did  not  quite 
lose  that  air  of  injury,  of  having  suffered  defeat,  which 
had  from  the  first  touched  her  in  him. 


CROSSED  WIRES  331 

When  Grant,  who  had  not  returned  to  school  after 
the  Christmas  holidays,  came  in,  she  was  still  standing 
by  the  fire.  He  had  been  coasting  on  the  hillside,  and 
was  aglow  from  the  exercise. 

"I  met  Mr.  Saxton  outside  and  asked  him  to  stay 
to  dinner,"  said  the  boy,  helping  himself  to  sandwiches 
at  the  tea  table. 

"I  asked  him,  too,"  said  Evelyn,  "but  he  couldn't 
stay.  I  didn't  know  he  was  a  friend  of  yours,  Grant." 

"Well,  he's  all  right,"  continued  Grant,  biting  into  a 
fresh  sandwich,  and  unconsciously  adopting  one  of  his 
father's  phrases.  "He  doesn't  guy  me  the  way  Warry 
does.  He  talks  to  me  as  if  I  had  some  sense,  and  he's 
going  to  let  me  ride  on  the  trolley  plow  the  next  time  it 
snows.  He's  a  Harvard  man.  I  want  to  go  to  Harvard, 
Evelyn." 

The  girl  laughed. 

"You're  a  funny  boy,  Grant,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

A  DISAPPEARANCE 

The  iron  thrall  of  winter  was  broken  at  last.  Great 
winds  still  blew  in  the  valley,  but  their  keen  edge  was 
dulled.  Their  errand  was  not  to  destroy  now,,  but  to 
build.  Robins  and  bluejays,  coming  before  the  daffo 
dils  dared,  looked  down  from  bare  boughs  upon  the 
receding  line  of  snow  on  the  Porter  hillside.  The  yel 
low  river  had  shaken  itself  free  of  ice,  and  its  swollen 
flood  rolled  seaward.  Porter  watched  it  from  his 
windows;  and  early  in  March  he  was  allowed  to  take 
short  walks  in  the  grounds,  followed  by  his  Scotch 
gardener,  with  whom  he  planned  the  floral  campaign 
of  the  summer.  Indoors  he  studied  the  alluring  cata 
logues  of  the  seedsmen,  an  annual  joy  with  him. 

Grant  was  still  at  home.  He  had  not  been  well,  and 
Evelyn  kept  him  out  of  school  on  the  plea  that  he 
would  help  to  amuse  his  father.  Porter  was  much 
weakened  by  his  illness,  and  though  he  pleaded  daily 
to  be  allowed  to  go  to  the  bank,  he  submitted  to 
Evelyn's  refusal  with  a,  tameness  that  was  new  in  him. 
Fenton  came  several  times  for  short  interviews; 
Thompson  called  as  an  old  friend  as  well  as  a  business 
associate,  but  he  was  prone  to  discuss  his  own  health  to 
the  exclusion  of  bank  affairs.  Wheaton  was  often  at 

332 


A  DISAPPEARANCE  333 

the  house,  and  Porter  preferred  his  account  of  bank 
matters  to  Thompson's.  Wheaton  carried  the  figures 
in  his  head,  and  answered  questions  offhand,  while 
Thompson  was  helpless  without  the  statements  which 
he  was  always  having  the  clerks  make  for  him.  Porter 
fretted  and  fumed  over  Traction  matters,  though  Fen- 
ton  did  his  best  to  reassure  him. 

He  did  not  understand  why  Saxton  should  have  been 
made  receiver;  if  Fenton  was  able  to  dictate  the  ap 
pointment,  why  did  he  ignore  Wheaton,  who  could  have 
been  spared  from  the  bank  easily  enough  when  Thomp 
son  returned.  Fenton  did  not  tell  him  the  true  reason 
— he  was  not  sure  of  it  himself — but  he  urged  the  fact 
that  Saxton  represented  certain  shares  which  were 
entitled  to  consideration,  and  he  made  much  of  the 
danger  of  Thompson's  breaking  down  at  any  moment 
and  having  to  leave.  Porter  dreaded  litigation,  and 
wanted  to  know  how  soon  the  receivership  could  be  ter 
minated  and  the  company  reorganized.  The  only  com 
fort  he  derived  from  the  situation  was  the  victory  which 
had  been  gained  over  Margrave,  who  had  repeatedly  sent 
messages  to  the  house  asking  for  an  interview  with 
Porter  at  the  earliest  moment  possible.  The  banker's 
humor  had  not  been  injured  by  the  fever,  and  he  told 
Evelyn  and  the  doctor  that  he'd  almost  be  willing  to 
stay  in  bed  a  while  longer  merely  to  annoy  Tim  Mar 
grave. 

"If  I'd  known  I  was  going  to  be  sick,  I  guess  I 
wouldn't  have  tackled  it,"  he  said  to  Fenton  one  day, 
holding  up  his  thin  hand  to  the  fire.  The  doctors  had 
found  his  heart  weak  and  had  cut  off  his  tobacco, 


334  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

which  he  missed  sorely.  "I  might  unload  as  soon  as 
we  can  rebond  and  reorganize." 

"That's  for  yon  to  say/'  answered  the  lawyer.  "Mar 
grave  wanted  it,  and  no  doubt  he  would  be  glad  to  take 
it  off  your  hands  if  you  care  to  deal  with  him." 

"If  I  was  sure  I  had  a  dead  horse,  I  guess  I'd  as  lief 
let  Tim  curry  him  as  any  man  in  town;  but  I  don't 
believe  this  animal  is  dead." 

"Not  much/'  said  the  lawyer  reassuringly.  "Saxton 
says  he's  making  money  every  day,  now  that  nobody  is 
stealing  the  revenues.  He's  painting  the  open  cars  and 
expects  to  do  much  better  through  the  summer." 

"I  guess  Saxton  doesn't  know  much  about  the  busi 
ness/'  said  Porter. 

"He  knows  more  than  he  did.  He's  all  right,  that 
fellow — slow  but  sure.  He's  been  a  surprise  to  every 
body.  He's  solid  with  the  men  too,  they  tell  me.  I 
guess  there  won't  be  any  strikes  while  he's  in  charge." 

"You'd  better  get  a  good  man  to  keep  the  accounts," 
Porter  suggested.  "Wheaton's  pretty  keen  on  such 
things." 

"Oh,  that's  all  fixed.  Saxton  brought  a  man  out 
from  an  Eastern  audit  company  to  run  that  for  him, 
and  he  deposits  with  the  bank." 

"All  right,"  said  Porter,  weakly. 

Saxton  came  and  talked  to  him  of  the  receivership 
several  times,  and  Porter  quizzed  him  about  it  in  his 
characteristic  vein.  Saxton  was  very  patient  under  his 
cross-examination,  and  reassured  the  banker  by  his 
manner  and  his  facts.  Porter  had  lost  his  cocky,  jaunty 
way,  and  after  the  first  interview  he  contented  himself 
with  asking  how  the  receipts  were  running  and  how 


A  DISAPPEARANCE  335 

they  compared  with  those  of  the  year  previous.  Saxton 
suggested  several  times  to  Fenton  that  he  would  relin 
quish  the  receivership,  now  that  Porter  was  able  to 
nominate  some  one  to  his  own  liking.  The  lawyer 
would  not  have  it  so*.  He  believed  in  Saxton  and  he 
felt  sure  that  when  Porter  could  get  about  and  see 
what  the  receiver  had  accomplished  he  would  be  satis 
fied.  It  would  be  foolish  to  make  a  change  until  Porter 
had  fully  recovered  and  was  able  to  take  hold  of  Trac 
tion  matters  in  earnest. 

Saxton  had  suddenly  become  a  person  of  importance 
in  the  community.  The  public  continued  to  be  mysti 
fied  by  the  legal  stroke  which  had  placed  William  Porter 
virtually  in  possession  of  the  property;  and  it  natu 
rally  took  a  deep  interest  in  the  court's  agent  who  was 
managing  it  so  successfully.  Warry  Raridan  was  de 
lighted  to  find  Saxton  praised,  and  he  dealt  ironically 
with  those  who  expressed  surprise  at  Saxton' s  capacity. 
He  was  glad  to  be  associated  with  John,  and  when  he 
could  find  an  excuse,  he  liked  to  visit  the  power  house 
with  him,  and  to  identify  himself  in  any  way  possible 
with  his  friend's  work.  During  the  extreme  cold  he  paid 
from  his  own  pocket  for  the  hot  coffee  which  was  handed 
up  to  the  motormen  along  all  the  lines,  and  gave  it  out 
to  the  newspapers  that  the  receiver  was  doing  it.  John 
warned  him  that  this  would  appear  reckless  and  injure 
him  with  the  judge  of  the  court  to  whom  he  was 
responsible. 

Though  Porter  was  not  strong  enough  to  resume  his 
business  burdens,  he  was  the  better  able  in  his  abundant 
leisure  to  quibble  over  domestic  and  social  matters 
with  an  invalid's  unreason.  He  was  troubled  because 


336  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

Evelyn  would  not  go  out;  she  had  missed  practically 
all  the  social  gaiety  of  the  winter  by  reason  of  his  ill 
ness,  and  he  wished  her  to  feel  free  to  leave  him  when 
she  liked.  In  his  careful  reading  of  the  newspapers  he 
noted  the  items  classified  under  "The  Giddy  Throng" 
and  "Social  Clarkson,"  and  it  pained  him  to  miss 
Evelyn's  name  in  the  list  of  those  who  "poured/'  or 
"assisted/'  or  "were  charming"  in  some  particular  rai 
ment,  Evelyn  was  now  able  to  plead  Lent  as  an  excuse 
for  spending  her  evenings  at  home,  but  when  he  found 
invitations  lying  about  as  he  prowled  over  the  house, 
he  continued  to  reprove  her  for  declining  them.  He 
had  an  idea  that  she  would  lose  prestige  by  her  absti 
nence;  but  she  declared  that  she  had  adopted  a  new 
rule  of  life,  and  that  henceforth  she  would  not  go 
anywhere  without  him. 

The  doctor  now  advised  a  change  for  Porter,  the  pur 
pose  of  which  was  to  make  it  impossible  for  him  to 
return  to  his  work  before  his  complete  recovery. 
Evelyn  and  the  doctor  chose  Asheville  before  they  men 
tioned  it  to  him,  and  the  plan,  of  course,  included 
Grant.  Mrs.  Whipple  still  supervised  the  Porter 
household  at  long  range,  and  the  general  frequently 
called  alone  to  help  the  banker  over  the  hard  places  in 
his  convalescence,  and  to  soothe  him  for  the  loss  of  his 
tobacco,  which  the  doctors  did  not  promise  to  restore. 

A  day  had  been  fixed  for  their  departure,  and  Mrs. 
Whipple  was  reviewing  and  approving  their  plans  in 
the  library,  as  Evelyn  and  her  father  and  Grant  dis 
cussed  them. 

"We  shall  probably  not  see  you  at  home  much  in  the 
future,"  Mrs.  Whipple  said  to  Mr.  Porter,  who  lay  in 


A  DISAPPEARANCE  337 

invalid  ease  on  a  lounge,  with  a  Roman  comforter  over 
his  knees.  "You'll  be  sure  to  become  the  worst  of 
gad-abouts — Europe,  the  far  East,  and  all  that." 

Porter  groaned,  knowing  that  she  was  mocking  him. 

"I  guess  not,"  he  said,  emphatically.  "I  never  expect 
to  have  any  time  for  loafing,  and  you  can't  teach  an  old 
dog  new  tricks." 

"Well,  you're  going  now,  anyhow.  Don't  let  this 
girl  get  into  mischief  while  you're  away.  An  invalid 
father — only  a  young  brother  to  care  for  her  and  keep 
the  suitors  away !  Be  sure  and  bring  her  back  without 
a  trail  of  encumbrances.  Grant,"  she  said,  turning  to 
the  boy,  "you  must  protect  Evelyn  from  those  Eastern 
men." 

"I'll  do  my  best,"  the  lad  answered.  "Evelyn  doesn't 
like  dudes,  and  Warry  says  all  the  real  men  live  out 
West." 

"I  guess  that's  right,"  said  Mr.  Porter. 

She  rose,  gathering  her  wrap  about  her.  Grant  rose 
as  she  did.  His  manners  were  very  nice,  and  he  walked 
into  the  hall  and  took  up  his  hat  to  go  down  to  the  car 
with  Mrs.  Whipple.  It  was  dusk,  and  a  man  was  going 
through  the  grounds  lighting  the  lamps.  Mrs. 
Whipple  talked  with  her  usual  vivacity  of  the  New 
Hampshire  school  which  the  boy  had  attended,  and  of 
the  trip  he  was  about  to  make  with  his  father  and 
sister.  They  stood  at  the  curb  in  front  of  the  Porter 
gate  waiting  for  her  car.  A  buggy  stopped  near  them 
and  a  man  alighted  and  stood  talking  to  a  companion 
who  remained  seated. 

"Is  this  the  way  to  Mr.  Porter's  stable  ?"  one  of  the 
men  called  to  them. 


338  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"Yes/5  Grant  answered,  as  he  stepped  into  the  street 
to  signal  the  car.  The  man  who  had  alighted  got 
back  into  the  buggy  as  if  to  drive  into  the  grounds. 
The  street  light  overhead  hissed  and  then  burned 
brightly  above  them.  Mrs.  Whipple  turned  and  saw 
one  of  the  men  plainly.  The  car  came  to  a  stop ;  Grant 
helped  her  aboard,  and  waved  his  hand  to  her  as  she 
gained  the  platform. 

At  nine  o'clock  a  general  alarm  was  sent  out  in 
Clarkson  that  Grant  Porter  had  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

JOHN   SAXTON   SUGGESTS   A   CLUE 

Wheaton  sat  in  his  room  at  The  Bachelors'  the  next 
evening,  clutching  a  copy  of  a  Gazette  extra  in  which  a 
few  sentences  under  long  headlines  gave  the  latest  rumor 
about  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  Grant  Porter. 
Within  a  fortnight  he  had  received  several  warnings 
from  his  brother  marking  his  itinerary  eastward.  Sny- 
der  was  evidently  moving  with  a  fixed  purpose;  and,  as 
Wheaton  had  received  brief  notes  from  him  couched  in 
phrases  of  amiable  irony,  postmarked  Denver,  and  then, 
within  a  few  days,  Kansas  City,  he  surmised  that  his 
brother  was  traveling  on  fast  trains  and  therefore  with 
money  in  his  purse. 

He  had  that  morning  received  a  postal  card,  signed 
"W.  W.,"  which  bore  a  few  taunting  sentences  in  a 
handwriting  which  Wheaton  readily  recognized.  He  did 
not  for  an  instant  question  that  William  Wheaton,  alias 
Snyder,  had  abducted  Grant  Porter,  nor  did  he  belittle 
the  situation  thus  created  as  it  affected  him.  He  faced 
it  coldly,  as  was  his  way.  He  ought  not  to  have  refused 
Snyder's  appeals,  he  confessed  to  himself;  the  debt  he 
owed  his  brother  for  bearing  the  whole  burden  of  their 
common  youthful  crime  had  never  been  discharged. 
The  bribes  and  subterfuges  which  Wheaton  had  em- 

339 


340  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

ployed  to  keep  him  away  from  Clarkson  had  never 
been  prompted  by  brotherly  gratitude  or  generosity, 
but  always  by  his  fear  of  having  so  odious  a  connection 
made  public.  This  was  one  line  of  reflection;  on  the 
other  hand,  the  time  for  dealing  with  his  brother  in  a 
spirit  of  tolerant  philanthropy  was  now  past.  He  was 
face  to  face  with  the  crucial  moment  where  concealment 
involved  complicity  in  a  crime.  His  duty  lay  clear 
before  him — his  duty  to  his  friends,  the  Porters — to 
the  woman  whom  he  knew  he  loved.  Was  he  equal  to 
it?  If  Snyder  were  caught  he  would  be  sure  to  take 
revenge  on  him;  and  Wheaton  knew  that  no  matter 
how  guiltless  he  might  show  himself  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  his  career  would  be  at  an  end;  he  could  not  live 
in  Clarkson;  Evelyn  Porter  would  never  see  him  again. 
The  Gazette  stated  that  a  district  telegraph  mes 
senger  had  left  at  Mr.  Porter's  door  a  note  which  named 
the  terms  on  which  Grant  could  be  ransomed.  The 
amount  was  large, — more  money  than  James  Wheaton 
possessed;  it  was  not  a  great  deal  for  William  Porter 
to  pay.  It  had  already  occurred  to  Wheaton  that  ho 
might  pay  the  ransom  himself  and  carry  the  boy  home, 
thus  establishing  forever  a  claim  upon  the  Porters.  He 
quickly  dismissed  this;  the  risks  of  exposure  were  too 
great.  He  smoked  a  cigarette  as  he  turned  all  these 
matters  over  in  his  mind.  Clearly,  the  best  thing  to  do 
was  to  let  the  climax  come.  His  brother  was  a  criminal 
with  a  record,  who  would  not  find  it  easy  to  drag  him 
into  the  mire.  His  own  career  and  position  in  Clarkson 
were  unassailable.  Very  likely  the  boy  would  be  found 
quickly  and  the  incident  would  close  with  Snyder's  sen 
tence  to  a  long  imprisonment.  By  the  time  the  China- 


SAXTON  SUGGESTS  A  CLUE     341 

man  called  him  to  dinner  he  was  able  to  view  the  case 
calmly.  He  would  face  it  out  no  matter  what  happened ; 
and  the  more  he  thought  of  it  the  likelier  it  seemed  that 
Snyder  had  overleaped  himself  and  would  soon  be  where 
he  could  no  longer  be  a  menace. 

He  went  down  to  dinner  late,  in  the  clothes  that  he 
had  worn  at  the  bank  all  day  and  thus  brought  upon 
himself  the  banter  of  C  aid  well,  the  Transcontinental 
agent,  who  sang  out  as  he  entered  the  dining-room 
door: 

"What's  the  matter,  Wheaton?  Sold  or  pawned  your 
other  clothes?" 

Wheaton  smiled  wanly. 

"Only  a  little  tired,"  he  said. 

"Come  on  now  and  give  us  the  real  truth  about  the 
kidnapping,"  said  Caldwell  with  cheerful  interest. 
"You'd  better  watch  the  bank  or  the  same  gang  may 
carry  it  off  next." 

"I  guess  the  bank's  safe  enough,"  Wheaton  answered. 
"And  I  don't  know  anything  except  what  I  read  in  the 
papers."  He  hoped  the  others  would  not  think  him  in 
different;  but  they  were  busy  discussing  various  rumors 
and  theories  as  to  the  route  taken  by  the  kidnappers 
and  the  amount  of  ransom.  He  threw  in  his  own  com 
ment  and  speculations  from  time  to  time. 

"Earidan's  out  chasing  them,"  said  Caldwell.  "I 
passed  him  and  Saxton  driving  like  mad  out  Mcrriam 
Street  at  noon."  The  mention  of  Raridan  and  Saxton 
did  not  comfort  Wheaton.  He  reflected  that  they  had 
undoubtedly  been  to  the  Porter  house  since  the  alarm 
had  been  sounded,  and  he  wondered  whether  his  own 
remissness  in  this  regard  had  been  remarked  at  the 


THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

Hill.  His  fingers  were  cold  as  he  stirred  his  coffee; 
and  when  he  had  finished  he  hurriedly  left  the  room, 
and  the  men  who  lingered  over  their  cigars  heard  the 
outer  door  close  after  him. 

He  felt  easier  when  he  got  out  into  the  cool  night 
air.  His  day  at  the  bank  had  been  one  long  horror; 
but  the  clang  of  the  cars,  the  lights  in  the  streets,  gave 
him  contact  with  life  again.  He  must  hasten  to  offer 
his  services  to  the  Porters,  though  he  knew  that  every 
means  of  assistance  had  been  employed,  and  that  there 
was  nothing  to  do  but  to  make  inquiries.  He  grew 
uneasy  as  his  car  neared  the  house,  and  he  climbed  the 
slope  of  the  hill  like  one  who  bears  a  burden.  He  had 
traversed  this  walk  many  times  in  the  past  year,  in  the 
varying  moods  of  a  lover,  who  one  day  walks  the  heights 
and  is  the  next  plunged  into  the  depths;  and  latterly, 
since  his  affair  with  Margrave,  he  had  known  moods 
of  conscience,  too,  and  these  returned  upon  him  with 
forebodings  now.  If  Porter  had  not  been  ill,  there 
would  never  have  been  that  interview  with  Margrave 
at  the  bank;  and  Grant  would  not  have  been  at  home 
to  be  kidnapped.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  troubles  of 
other  people  rather  than  his  own  errors  were  bearing 
down  the  balance  against  his  happiness. 

Evelyn  came  into  the  parlor  with  eyes  red  from  weep 
ing.  "Oh,  have  you  no  news?"  she  cried  to  him.  He 
had  kept  on  his  overcoat  and  held  his  hat  in  his  hand. 
Her  grief  stung  him ;  a  great  wave  of  tenderness  swept 
over  him,  but  it  was  followed  by  a  wave  of  terror. 
Evelyn  wept  as  she  tried  to  tell  her  story. 

"It  is  dreadful,  horrible !"  he  forced  himself  to  say. 


SAXTON  SUGGESTS  A  CLUE     343 

"But  certainly  no  harm  can  come  to  the  boy.  No  doubt 
in  a  few  hours — " 

"But  he  isn't  strong  and  father  is  still  weak — " 

She  threw  herself  in  a  chair  and  her  tears  broke  forth 
afresh. 

Wheaton  stood  impotently  watching  her  anguish.  It 
is  a  new  and  strange  sensation  which  a  man  experiences 
when  for  the  first  time  he  sees  tears  in  the  eyes  of  the 
woman  he  loves. 

Evelyn  sprang  up  suddenly. 

"Have  you  seen  Warry?"  she  asked — "has  he  come 
back  yet ?" 

" Nothing  had  been  heard  from  them  when  I  came  up 
town."  He  still  stood,  watching  her  pityingly.  "I  hope 
you  understand  how  sorry  I  am — how  dreadful  I  feel 
about  it."  He  walked  over  to  her  and  she  thought  he 
meant  to  go.  She  had  not  heard  what  he  said,  but  she 
thought  he  had  been  offering  help. 

"Oh,  thank  you !  Everything  is  being  done,  I  know. 
They  will  find  him  to-night,  won't  they?  They  surely; 
must,"  she  pleaded.  Her  father  called  her  in  his  weak 
ened  voice  to  know  who  was  there  and  she  hurried  away 
to  him. 

Wheaton's  eyes  followed  her  as  she  went  weeping 
from  the  room,  and  he  watched  her,  feeling  that  he 
might  never  see  her  again.  He  felt  the  poignancy  of 
this  hour's  history, — of  his  having  brought  upon  this 
house  a  hideous  wrong.  The  French  clock  on  the  man 
tel  struck  seven  and  then  tinkled  the  three  quarters 
lingcringly.  There  were  roses  in  a  vase  on  the  mantel; 
he  had  sent  them  to  her  the  day  before.  He  stood  as 
one  dazed  for  a  minute  after  she  had  vanished.  He 


344  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

could  hear  Porter  back  in  the  house  ^somewhere,  and 
Evelyn's  voice  reassuring  him.  The  musical  stroke  of 
the  bell,  the  scent  of  the  roses,  the  familiar  surround 
ings  of  the  room,  wrought  upon  him  like  a  pain.  He 
stared  stupidly  about,  as  if  amid  a  ruin  that  he  had 
brought  upon  the  place;  and  then  he  went  out  of  the 
house  and  down  the  slope  into  the  street,  like  a  man 
in  a  dream. 

While  Wheaton  swayed  between  fear  and  hope,  the 
community  was  athrill  with  excitement.  The  probable 
fate  of  the  missing  boy  was  the  subject  of  anxious  debate 
in  every  home  in  Clarkson,  and  the  whole  country 
eagerly  awaited  further  news  of  the  kidnapping. 
Earidan  and  Saxton  hearing  early  of  the  boy's  disap 
pearance  had  at  once  placed  every  known  agency  at 
work  to  find  him.  Not  satisfied  with  the  local  police, 
they  had  summoned  detectives  from  Chicago,  and  these 
were  already  at  work.  Rewards  for  the  boy's  return 
were  telegraphed  in  every  direction.  The  only  clue  was 
the  slight  testimony  of  Mrs.  Whipple.  She  had  told 
and  re-told  her  story  to  detectives  and  reporters.  There 
was  only  too  little  to  tell.  Grant  had  walked  with  her 
to  the  car.  She  had  seen  only  one  of  the  men  that  had 
driven  up  to  the  curb, — the  one  that  had  inquired  about 
the  entrance  to  Mr.  Porter's  grounds.  She  remembered 
that  he  had  moved  his  head  curiously  to  one  side  as  he 
spoke,  and  there  was  something  unusual  about  his 
eyes  which  she  could  not  describe.  Perhaps  he  had  only 
one  eye;  she  did  not  know. 

Every  other  man  in  Clarkson  had  turned  detective, 
and  the  whole  city  had  been  ransacked.  Suspicion 
fastened  itself  upon  an  empty  house  in  a  hollow  back 


SAXTON  SUGGESTS  A  CLUE  315 

of  the  Porter  hill,  which  had  been  rented  by  a  stranger 
a  few  days  before  Grant  Porter's  disappearance;  it  was 
inspected  solemnly  by  all  the  detectives  but  without 
results. 

Earidan  and  Saxton,  acting  independently  of  the 
authorities  in  the  confusion  and  excitement,  followed  a 
slight  clue  that  led  them  far  countryward.  They  lost 
the  trail  completely  at  a  village  fifteen  miles  away,  and 
after  alarming  the  country  drove  back  to  town.  Mean 
while  another  message  had  been  sent  to  the  father  of  the 
boy  stating  that  the  ransom  money  could  be  taken  by 
a  single  messenger  to  a  certain  spot  in  the  country, 
at  midnight,  and  that  within  forty-eight  hours  there 
after  the  boy  would  be  returned.  He  was  safe  from 
pursuit,  the  note  stated,  and  an  ominous  hint  was 
dropped  that  it  would  be  wise  to  abandon  the  idea  of 
procuring  the  captive's  return  unharmed  without  paying 
the  sum  asked.  Mr.  Porter  told  the  detectives  that  he 
would  pay  the  money;  but  the  proposed  meeting  was 
set  for  the  third  night  after  the  abduction;  the  captors 
were  in  no  hurry,  they  wrote.  The  crime  was  clearly  the 
work  of  daring  men,  and  had  been  carefully  planned 
with  a  view  to  quickening  the  anxiety  of  the  family  of 
the  stolen  boy.  And  so  twenty-four  hours  passed. 

"This  is  a  queer  game/7  said  Karidan,  on  the  second 
evening,  as  he  and  John  discussed  the  subject  again  in 
John's  room  at  the  club.  "I  don't  just  make  it  out. 
If  the  money  was  all  these  fellows  wanted,  they  could 
make  a  quick  touch  of  it.  Mr.  Porter's  crazy  to  pay 
any  sum.  But  they  seem  to  want  to  prolong  the 
agony." 

"That  looks  queer,"  said  Saxton.     "There  may  be 


346  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

something  back  of  it;  but  Porter  hasn't  any  enemies 
who  would  try  this  kind  of  thing.  There  are  business 
men  here  who  would  like  to  do  him  up  in  a  trade,  but 
this  is  a  little  out  of  the  usual  channels." 

Saxton  got  up  and  walked  the  floor. 

"Look  here,  Warry,  did  you  ever  know  a  one-eyed 
man?" 

"I'm  afraid  not,  except  the  traditional  Cyclops." 

"It  has  just  occurred  to  me  that  I  have  seen  such 
a  man  since  I  came  to  this  part  of  the  country;  but 
the  circumstances  wrere  peculiar.  This  thing  is  queerer 
than  ever  as  I  think  of  it." 

"Wen?" 

"It  was  back  at  the  Poindexter  place  when  I  first 
went  there.  A  fellow  named  Snyder  was  in  charge. 
He  had  made  a  rats'  nest  of  the  house,  and  resented 
the  idea  of  doing  any  work.  He  seemed  to  think  he 
was  there  to  stay.  Wheaton  had  given  him  the  job 
before  I  came.  I  remember  that  I  asked  Wheaton  if 
it  made  any  difference  to  him  what  I  did  with  the  fel 
low.  He  didn't  seem  to  care  and  I  bounced  him.  That 
was  two  years  ago  and  I  haven't  heard  of  him  since." 

Earidan  drew  the  smoke  of  a  cigarette  into  his 
lungs  and  blew  it  out  in  a  cloud. 

"Who's  at  the  Poindexter  place  now?" 

"Nobody;  I  haven't  been  there  myself  for  a  year  or 
more." 

"Is  it  likely  that  fellow  is  at  the  bottom  of  this,  and 
that  he  has  made  a  break  for  the  ranch  house?  That 
must  be  a  good  lonesome  place  out  there." 

"Well,  it  won't  take  long  to  find  out.  The  thing  to 
do  is  to  go  ourselves  without  saying  a  word  to  any  one." 


SAXTON  SUGGESTS  A  CLUE 

Saxton  looked  at  his  watch. 

"It's  half  past  nine.  The  Eocky  Mountain  limited 
leaves  at  ten  o'clock,  and  stops  at  Great  Eiver  at  three 
in  the  morning.  Poindexter's  is  about  an  hour  from 
the  station." 

"Let's  make  a  still  hunt  of  it,"  said  Warry.  "The 
detectives  are  busy  on  what  may  be  real  clues  and  this 
is  only  a  guess." 

They  rose. 

"I  can't  imagine  that  fellow  Snyder  doing  anything 
so  dashing  as  carrying  off  a  millionaire's  son.  He  didn't 
look  to  me  as  if  he  had  the  nerve." 

"It's  only  a  chance,  but  it's  worth  trying." 

In  the  lower  hall  they  met  Wheaton  who  was  pacing 
up  and  down. 

"Is  there  any  news  ?"  he  asked,  with  a  show  of  eager 
ness. 

"No.  We  lost  our  trail  at  Eollins,"  said  Earidan. 
"Have  you  heard  anything?" 

"Nothing  so  far,"  Wheaton  replied.  He  uttered  the 
"so  far"  bravely,  as  if  he  really  might  be  working  on 
clues  of  his  own.  His  speculations  of  one  moment 
were  abandoned  the  next.  He  was  building  and  de 
stroying  and  rebuilding  theories  and  plans  of  action. 
He  was  strong  and  weak  in  the  same  breath.  He  envied 
Earidan  and  Saxton  their  air  of  determined  activity. 
He  resolved  to  join  them,  to  steady  himself  by  them. 
He  was  struggling  between  two  inclinations:  one  to 
show  his  last  threatening  note  from  Snyder,  which  was 
buttoned  in  his  pocket,  and  boldly  confess  that  the 
blow  at  Porter  was  also  an  indirect  blow  at  himself; 
and  on  the  other  hand  he  held  to  a  cowardly  hope  that 


348  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

the  boy  would  yet  be  recovered  without  his  name  ap 
pearing  in  the  matter.  He  was  aware  that  all  his 
hopes  for  the  future  hung  in  the  balance.  He  was  sure 
that  every  one  would  soon  know  of  his  connection  with 
the  kidnapping;  and  yet  he  still  tried  to  convince  him 
self  that  he  was  wholly  guiltless. 

He  was  afraid  of  John  Saxton;  Saxton,  he  felt, 
probably  knew  the  part  he  had  played  in  the  street 
railway  matter.  It  seemed  to  him  that  Saxton  must 
have  told  others;  probably  Saxton  had  Evelyn's 
certificate  put  away  for  use  when  William  Porter  should 
be  restored  to  health ;  but  on  second  thought  he  was  not 
sure  of  this.  Saxton  might  not  know  after  all !  This 
went  through  his  mind  as  John  and  Warry  stood  talk 
ing  to  him. 

"Wheaton,"  said  Saxton,  "do  you  remember  that 
fellow  Snyder  who  was  in  charge  of  the  Poindexter 
place  when  I  came  here?" 

"What — oh  yes !"  His  hand  rose  quickly  to  his  care 
fully  tied  four-in-hand  and  he  fingered  it  nervously. 

"You  may  not  remember  it,  but  he  had  only  one  eye." 

"Yes,  that's  so,"  said  Wheaton,  as  if  recalling  the 
fact  with  difficulty. 

"And  Mrs.  Whipple  says  there  was  something  wrong 
about  one  of  the  eyes  of  the  man  who  accosted  her  and 
Grant  at  Mr.  Porter's  gate.  What  became  of  that 
fellow  after  he  left  the  ranch — have  you  any  idea?" 
Karidan  had  walked  away  to  talk  to  a  group  of  men  in 
the  reading  room,  leaving  Saxton  and  Wheaton  alone. 

"He  went  West  the  last  I  knew  of  him,"  Wheaton 
answered,  steadily. 

"It  has  struck  me  that  he  might  be  in  this  thing. 


SAXTON  SUGGESTS  A  CLUE     349 

It's  only  a  guess,  but  Earidan  and  I  thought  we'd  run 
out  to  the  Poindexter  ranch  and  see  if  it  could  possibly 
be  the  rendezvous  of  the  kidnappers.  It's  probably  a 
fool's  errand  but  it  won't  take  long,  and  we'll  do  it 
unofficially  without  saying  anything  to  the  authorities." 
His  mind  was  on  the  plan  and  he  looked  at  his  watch 
and  called  to  Earidan  to  come. 

"I  believe  I'll  go  along/'  said  Wheaton,  suddenly. 
"We  can  be  back  by  noon  to-morrow/'  he  added,  con 
scientiously,  remembering  his  duties  at  the  bank. 

"All  right/'  said  Warry.  "We're  taking  bags  along 
in  case  of  emergencies."  A  boy  came  down  carrying 
Saxton's  suit-case.  Wheaton  and  Earidan  hurried  out 
together  to  The  Bachelors'  to  get  their  own  things. 
It  was  a  relief  to  Wheaton  to  have  something  to  do ;  it 
was  hardly  possible  that  Snyder  had  fled  to  the  ranch 
house ;  but  in  any  event  he  was  glad  to  get  away  from 
Clarkson  for  a  few  hours. 

As  the  train  drew  out  of  the  station  Earidan  and 
Saxton  left  Wheaton  and  went  to  the  rear  of  their 
sleeper,  which  was  the  last,  and  stood  on  the  observa 
tion  platform,  watching  the  receding  lights  of  the 
city.  The  day  had  been  warm  for  the  season;  as  the 
air  quickened  into  life  with  the  movement  of  the  train 
they  sat  down,  with  a  feeling  of  relief,  on  the  stools 
which  the  porter  brought  them.  They  had  done  all 
that  they  could  do,  and  there  was  nothing  now  but  to 
wait.  The  train  rattled  heavily  through  the  yards  at 
the  edge  of  town,  and  the  many  lights  of  the  city  grew 
dimmer  as  they  receded.  Suddenly  Earidan  rose  and 
pointed  to  a  single  star  that  glowed  high  on  a  hill. 


350  THE  MAIN  CHAFCE 

"It's  the  light  in  the  tower  at  the  Porters'/'  he  said, 
bending  down  to  Saxton,  "her  light !" 

"It's  the  light  of  all  the  valley/'  said  Saxton,  rising 
and  putting  his  hand  on  his  friend's  shoulder.  He, 
too,  knew  the  light ! 

The  train  was  gathering  speed  now;  the  wheels  began 
to  croon  their  melody  of  distance;  one  last  curve,  and 
the  star  of  the  Hill  had  been  blotted  out. 

"It's  like  a  flower  in  an  inaccessible  place  on  a  hill 
side,"  said  Earidan;  and  he  repeated  half  aloud  some 
lines  of  a  poem  that  had  lately  haunted  him: 

"  'Though  I  be  mad,  I  shall  not  wake ; 

I  shall  not  fall  to  common  sight; 

Only  the  god  himself  may  take 

This  music  out  of  my  blood,  this  glory  out  of  my 

breath, 

This  lift,  this  rapture,  this  singing  might, 
And  love  that  outlasts  death.' '; 

When  they  went  in,  Wheaton  was  alone  in  the 
smoking  compartment  and  they  joined  him  to  discuss 
their  plans  for  the  drive  to  Poindexter's  place. 

"We'd  better  push  right  on  to  the  ranch  house  as 
soon  as  we  get  to  Great  Eiver,"  said  Saxton.  "We're 
due  there  at  three  o'clock.  We  ought  to  get  back  to 
take  the  nine  o'clock  train  home  in  any  event." 

"And  what's  going  to  happen  if  we  find  the  man 
there?"  asked  Raridan.  "We  want  the  boy  and  him, 
too,  don't  we?" 

Wheaton  sat  with  his  eyes  turned  toward  the  window, 
which  the  darkness  made  opaque. 

"If  he's  cornered  he'll  be  glad  to  drop  the  boy  and 


SAXTOIST  SUGGESTS  A  CLUE  351 

clear  out.  But  we  want  to  take  him  home  with  us  too, 
don't  we,  Wheaton?"  asked  Saxton. 

"I  should  think  we'd  better  make  sure  of  the  boy 
first,"  Wheaton  answered.  "That  would  be  a  good 
night's  work." 

The  porter  came  to  tell  them  that  their  berths  were 
ready. 

"It's  hardly  worth  while  to  turn  in,"  said  Warry, 
yawning.  "I  shudder  at  the  thought  of  getting  up  at 
three  o'clock.  "But,"  he  added,  "if  we're  on  the  right 
track,  this  time  to-morrow  night  they'll  probably  be 
welcoming  us  home  with  brass  bands  and  the  freedom 
of  the  city.  Perhaps  they'll  have  a  public  meeting  at 
the  Board  of  Trade.  Cheer  up,  Jim;  those  detectives 
will  go  out  of  business  if  we  really  take  the  boy  home." 

Wheaton  smiled  wearily;  he  did  not  relish  Earidan's 
jesting. 

"Will  your  imagination  never  rest?"  growled  Sax- 
ton,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  pipe. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

SHOTS   IN  THE  DARK 

The  night  wind  of  the  plain  blew  cold  in  their 
faces  as  they  stepped  out  upon  the  Great  River  plat 
form.  There  was  a  hint  of  storm  in  the  air  and  clouds 
rode  swiftly  overhead.  The  voices  of  the  trainmen  and 
the  throb  of  the  locomotive,  resting  for  its  long  climb 
mountainward,  broke  strangely  upon  the  silence.  A 
great  figure  muffled  in  a  long  ulster  came  down  the 
platform  toward  the  vestibule  from  which  the  trio  had 
descended. 

"Hello,"  called  Raridan  cheerily,  "there's  only  one 
like  that !  Good  morning,  Bishop  !" 

"Good  morning,  gentlemen,"  said  Bishop  Delafield, 
peering  into  their  faces.  The  waiting  porter  took  his 
bags  from  him.  "Has  the  boy  been  found  yet?" 

"No." 

"I  should  have  gone  on  home  to-night  if  I  had  known 
that.  But  what  are  you  doing  here?" 

Raridan  told  him  in  a  few  words.  They  we're  fol 
lowing  a  slight  clue,  and  were  going  over  to  the  old 
Poindexter  place,  in  the  hope  of  finding  Grant  Porter 
there.  Saxton  was  holding  a  colloquy  with  the  driver 
of  the  station  hack  who  had  come  in  quest  of  passengers, 
and  he  hurried  off  with  the  man  to  get  a  buckboard. 

353 


SHOTS  IN  THE  DARK  353 

Tlie  conductor  signaled  with  his  lantern  to  go  ahead, 
and  the  engine  answered  with  a  doleful  peal  of  the 
bell.  The  porter  had  gathered  up  the  bishop's  things 
and  waited  for  him  to  step  aboard. 

"Never  mind/'  the  bishop  said  to  him;  "I  won't  go 
to-night."  The  train  was  already  moving  and  the 
bishop  turned  to  Raridan  and  Wheaton.  "I'll  wait  and 
see  what  comes  of  this." 

"Very  well,"  said  Raridan.  "We  won't  need  our 
bags.  We  can  leave  them  with  the  station  agent." 
Wheaton  stepped  forward  eagerly,  glad  to  have  some 
thing  to  do ;  he  had  not  slept,  and  was  grateful  for  the 
cover  of  darkness  which  shut  him  out  from  the  others. 

"Gentlemen  with  flasks  had  better  take  them/'  said 
Warry,  opening  his  bag.  "It's  a  cold  morning!" 

"Wretchedly  intemperate  man/'  said  the  bishop. 
"Where's  yours,  Mr.  Wheaton?" 

"I  haven't  any/'  Wheaton  answered. 

When  he  went  into  the  station,  the  agent  eyed  him 
curiously  as  he  looked  up  from,  his  telegraphing  and 
nodded  his  promise  to  care  for  the  bags.  He  remem 
bered  Saxton  and  Wheaton  and  supposed  that  they  were 
going  to  Poindexter's  on  ranch  business. 

Saxton  drove  up  to  the  platform  with  the  buck- 
board. 

"All  ready,"  he  said,  and  the  three  men  climbed  in, 
the  bishop  and  Wheaton  in  the  back  seat  and  Raridan 
by  Saxton,  who  drove. 

"The  roads  out  here  are  the  worst.  It's  a  good  thing 
the  ground's  frozen." 

"It's  a  better  thing  that  you  know  the  way,"  said 
Earidan.  "I'm  a  lost  child  in  the  wilderness." 


354  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"If  you  lose  me,  Wheaton  can  find  the  way/'  said 
Saxton. 

They  could  hear  the  train  puffing  far  in  the  distance. 
Its  passage  had  not  disturbed  the  sleep  of  the  little  vil 
lage.  The  lantern  of  the  station-master  flashed  in  the 
main  street  as  he  picked  his  way  homeward.  Stars  could 
be  seen  beyond  the  flying  clouds.  The  road  lay  be 
tween  wire-fenced  ranches,  and  the  scattered  homes  of 
their  owners  were  indistinguishable  in  the  darkness  of 
the  night.  A  pair  of  ponies  drew  the  buckboard 
briskly  over  the  hard,  rough  road. 

"How  far  is  it?"  asked  the  bishop. 

"Five  miles.  We  can  do  it  in  an  hour/'  said  Saxton 
over  his  shoulder. 

"We'll  be  in  Clarkson  laughing  at  the  police  to 
morrow  afternoon  if  we  have  good  luck,"  said  Randan. 
"If  we've  made  a  bad  guess  we'll  sneak  home  and  not 
tell  where  we've  been." 

The  road  proved  to  be  in  better  condition  than 
Saxton  had  expected,  and  he  kept  the  ponies  at  their 
work  with  his  whip.  The  rumble  of  the  wagon  rose 
above  the  men's  voices  and  they  ceased  trying  to  talk. 
Earidan  and  Saxton  smoked  in  silence,  lighting  one 
cigar  from  another.  The  bishop  rode  with  his  head 
bowed  on  his  breast,  asleep;  he  had  learned  the  trick 
of  taking  sleep  when  and  where  he  could. 

Wheaton  felt  the  numbing  of  his  hands  and  feet  in 
the  cold  night  air  and  welcomed  the  discomfort,  as  a 
man  long  used  to  a  particular  sensation  of  pain  wel 
comes  a  new  one  that  proves  a  counter-irritant.  He 
reviewed  again  the  grounds  on  which  he  might  have 
excused  himself  from  taking  this  trip.  Nothing,  he 


SHOTS  IN  THE  DARK  355 

argued,  could  be  more  absurd  than  this  adventure  on  an 
errand  which  might  much  better  have  been  left  to  pro 
fessional  detectives.  But  it  seemed  a  far  cry  back  to 
his  desk  at  the  bank,  and  to  the  tasks,  there  which  he 
really  enjoyed.  In  a  few  hours  the  daily  routine  would 
be  in  progress.  The  familiar  scenes  of  the  opening 
passed  before  him — the  clerks  taking  their  places;  the 
slamming  of  the  big  books  upon  the  desks  as  they  were 
brought  from  the  vault;  the  jingle  of  coin  in  the  cages 
as  the  tellers  assorted  it  and  made  ready  for  the  day's 
business.  He  saw  himself  at  his  desk,  the  executive 
officer  of  the  most  substantial  institution  in  Clarkson, 
his  signature  carrying  the  bank's  pledge,  his  position 
one  of  dignity  and  authority. 

But  he  was  on  William  Porter's  service;  he  pictured 
himself  walking  into  the  bank  from  a  fruitless  quest, 
but  one  which  would  attract  attention  to  himself.  If 
they  found  the  boy  and  released  him  safely,  he  would 
share  the  thanks  and  praise  which  would  be  the  reward 
of  the  rescuing  party.  He  had  no  idea,  that  Snyder 
would  be  captured;  and  he  even  planned  to  help  him 
escape  if  he  could  do  so. 

They  had  turned  off  from  the  main  highway  and 
were  well  up  in  the  branch  road  that  ran  to  the  Poin- 
dexter  place. 

"This  is  right,  Wheaton,  isn't  it?"  asked  Saxton, 
drawing  up  the  ponies. 

"Yes,  this  is  the  ranch  road." 

They  went  forward  slowly.  The  clouds  were  more 
compactly  marshaled  now  and  the  stars  were  fewer. 
Suddenly  Saxton  brought  the  ponies  to  a  stand  and 
pointed  to  a  dark  pile  that  loomed  ahead  of  them. 


356  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

The  Poindexter  house  stood  forth  somber  in  the  thin 
starlight. 

"Is  that  the  place?"  asked  the  bishop,  now  wide 
awake. 

"That's  it,"  said  Wheaton.  "This  road  ends  there. 
The  river's  just  beyond  the  cottonwoods.  That  first 
building  was  Poindexter's  barn.  It  cost  more  than 
the  court  house  of  this  county." 

Saxton  gave  the  reins  to  Earidan  and  jumped  out. 
"No  more  smoking,"  he  said,  throwing  away  his  cigar. 
"You  stay  here  and  I'll  reconnoiter  a  bit."  He  walked 
swiftly  toward  the  great  barn  which  lay  between  him 
and  the  house.  There  was  no  sign  of  life  in  the  place. 
He  crept  through  the  barb-wire  fence  into  the  corral. 
He  had  barred  and  padlocked  the  barn  door  on  his 
last  visit,  and  he  satisfied  himself  that  the  fastenings 
had  not  been  disturbed.  There  were  no  indications 
that  any  one  had  visited  the  place.  He  reasoned  that 
if  Snyder  had  sought  the  ranch  house  for  a  rendezvous 
he  had  not  come  afoot.  Saxton  was  therefore  disap 
pointed  to  find  the  barn  door  locked  and  the  corral 
empty;  there  was  little  use  in  looking  further,  he  con 
cluded;  but  before  joining  the  others  he  resolved  to 
make  sure  that  the  house  also  was  empty.  It  was  quite 
dark  and  he  walked  boldly  up  to  it.  The  wind  had 
risen  and  whistled  shrilly  around  it;  a  loose  blind 
under  the  eaves  flapped  noisily  as  he  drew  near.  The 
great  front  door  was  closed;  he  pushed  against  it  and 
found  it  securely  fastened.  He  had  brought  with  him 
a  key  to  a  rear  door,  and  he  started  around  the  house 
to  try  it  and  to  make  sure  that  the  house  was  not 
occupied. 


SHOTS  IX  THE  DARK  357 

At  the  corner  toward  the  river,  glass  suddenly 
crunched  under  his  feet.  The  windows  were  deeply 
embrasured  all  over  the  house,  and  he  could  not  de 
termine  where  the  glass  had  fallen  from.  The  windows 
were  all  intact  when  he  left,  he  was  sure.  He  drew  off 
his  glove  and  tiptoed  to  the  nearest  panes,  ran  his 
fingers  over  the  smooth  glass,  and  instantly  touched  a 
broken  edge.  As  he  was  feeling  the  frame  to  discover 
the  size  of  the  opening,  the  low  whinny  of  a  horse  came 
distinctly  from  within. 

He  stood  perfectly  quiet,  listening,  and  in  a  moment 
heard  the  stamp  of  a  hoof  on  the  wooden  floor  of  the 
hall.  He  backed  off  toward  the  drive  way,  which  swept 
around  in  front  of  the  house,  and  waited,  but  all  re 
mained  as  silent  and  as  dark  as  before.  He  ran  back 
through  the  corral  to  the  other  men,  who  stood  talking 
beside  the  blanketed  ponies. 

"There's  something  or  somebody  in  the  house,"  he 
said.  He  told  them  of  the  broken  window  and  of  the 
sounds  he  had  heard.  "Whoever' s  there  has  no  busi 
ness  there  and  we  may  as  well  turn  him  out.  I've 
thought  of  a  good  many  schemes  for  utilizing  that 
house,  but  the  idea  of  making  a  barn  of  it  hadn't  oc 
curred  to  me." 

He  threw  off  his  overcoat  and  tossed  it  into  the  buck- 
board. 

"I  guess  that's  a  good  idea,  John,"  said  Raridan,  fol 
lowing  his  example,  Wheaton  stood  muffled  in  his 
coat.  His  teeth  were  chattering,  and  he  fumbled  at 
the  buttons  but  kept  his  coat  on,  walking  toward  the 
house  with  the  others. 

"We  may  have  a  horse  thief  or  we  may  have  a  kid- 


358  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

napper,"  said  Saxton,  who  had  taken  charge  of  the 
party ;  "but  in  either  case  we  may  as  well  take  him  with 
his  live  stock." 

"Let  us  not  be  rash/'  said  the  bishop,  following  the 
others.  "He  may  prove  an  unruly  customer." 

"He's  probably  a  dude  tramp  who  rides  a  horse  and 
has  taken  a  fancy  to  Poindexter  architecture/'  said 
Warry. 

"Quiet !"  admonished  Saxton,  who  had  lighted  a 
lantern,  which  he  concealed  under  his  coat. 

"You  two  watch  the  corners  of  the  house/'  he  said, 
indicating  Earidan  and  Wheaton;  "and  you,  Bishop, 
can  stand  off  here,  if  you  will,  and  watch  for  signs  of 
light  in  the  upper  windows.  The  big  front  doors  are 
barred  on  the  inside,  and  my  key  opens  only  the  back 
door." 

"I'll  go  with  you,"  said  Earidan. 

"Not  yet,  old  man.  You  stay  right  here  and  watch 
until  I  throw  open  the  front  doors." 

"But  that's  a  foolish  risk,"  insisted  Earidan. 
"There  may  be  a  dozen  men  inside." 

"That's  all  right,  Warry.  It  takes  only  a  minute 
to  cross  the  hall  and  unbar  the  front  doors.  There's 
no  risk  about  it.  I'll  be  out  in  half  a  minute." 

Earidan  felt  that  Saxton  was  taking  all  the  hazards, 
but  he  yielded,  as  he  usually  did,  when  Saxton  was  de 
cisive,  as  now. 

"Good  luck  to  you,  old  man!"  he  said,  slapping 
Saxton  on  the  back.  He  patrolled  the  grass-plot  before 
the  house,  while  Saxton  went  to  the  rear. 

The  door  opened  easily,  and  John  stepped  into  the 
lower  hall.  The  place  was  pitch  dark.  He  remembered 


SHOTS  IN  THE  DARK  359 

the  position  of  the  articles  of  furniture  as  he  had  left 
them  on  his  last  visit,  and  started  across  the  hall  toward 
the  stairway,  using  his  lantern  warily.  When  half  way, 
he  heard  the  whinny  of  a  horse  which  he  could  not  see. 
A  moment  later  an  animal  shrank  away  from  him  in 
the  darkness  and  was  still  again.  Then  another  horse 
whinnied  by  the  window  whose  broken  glass  he  had 
found  on  the  outside.  There  were,  then,  two  horses, 
from  which  he  argued  that  there  were  at  least  two  per 
sons  in  the  house.  He  found  the  doors  and  lifted  the 
heavy  bar  that  held  them  and  drew  the  bolts  at  top 
and  bottom.  As  the  doors  swung  open  slowly  Raridan 
ran  up  to  see  if  anything  was  wanted. 

"All  right,"  said  Saxton  in  a  low  tone.  "They're 
mighty  quiet  if  they're  here.  But  there's  no  doubt 
about  the  horses.  You  stay  where  you  are  and  I'll  ex 
plore  a  little." 

Raridan  started  to  follow  him,  but  Saxton  pushed 
him  back. 

"Watch  the  door,"  he  said,  and  walked  guardedly 
into  the  house  again.  The  horses  stamped  fretfully  as 
he  went  toward  the  stairway,  but  all  was  quiet  above. 
He  felt  his  way  slowly  up  the  stair-rail,  whose  heavy 
dust  stuck  to  his  fingers.  Having  gained  the  upper 
hall,  he  paused  to  take  fresh  bearings.  His  memory 
brought  back  gradually  the  position  of  the  rooms.  In 
putting  out  his  hand  he  touched  a  picture  which  swung 
slightly  on  its  wire  and  grated  harshly  against  the 
rough  plaster  of  the  wall.  At  the  same  instant  he 
heard  a  noise  directly  in  front  of  him  as  of  some  one 
moving  about  in  the  chamber  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 
The  knob  of  a  door  was  suddenly  grasped  from  within. 


360  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

John  waited,  crouched  down,,  and  drew  his  revolver 
from  the  side  pocket  of  his  coat.  The  door  stuck  in 
the  frame,  but  being  violently  shaken,  suddenly  pulled 
free.  The  person  who  had  opened  the  door  stepped 
back  into  the  room  and  scratched  a  match. 

"Wake  up  there,"  called  a  voice  within  the  room. 

Saxton  crept  softly  across  the  hall,  settling  the  re 
volver  into  his  hand  ready  for  use.  A  man  could  be 
heard  mumbling  and  cursing. 

"Hurry  up,  boy,  it's  time  we  were  out  of  this." 

The  owner  of  the  voice  now  reappeared  at  the  door 
holding  a  lantern ;  he  was  pushing  some  one  in  front  of 
him.  The  crisis  had  come  quickly;  John  Saxton  knew 
that  he  had  found  Grant  Porter;  and  he  remembered 
that  he  was  there  to  get  the  boy  whether  he  caught  his 
abductor  or  not. 

The  man  was  carrying  his  lantern  in  his  right  hand 
and  pushing  the  boy  toward  the  staircase  with  his 
left.  As  he  came  well  out  of  the  door,  Saxton  sprang 
up  and  kicked  the  lantern  from  the  man's  hand.  At 
the  same  moment  he  grabbed  the  boy  by  the  collar, 
drew  him  back  and  stepped  in  front  of  him.  The  lan 
tern  crashed  against  the  wall  opposite  and  went  rolling 
down  the  stairway  with  its  light  extinguished.  Saxton 
had  dropped  his  own  lantern  and  the  hall  was  in  dark 


ness. 
« 


Stop  where  you  are,  Sn}^der,"  said  Saxton,  "or  I'll 
shoot.  I'm  John  Saxton;  you  may  remember  me." 
He  spoke  in  steady,  even  tones. 

The  lantern,  rolling  down  the  stairway,  startled  the 
horses,  which  stamped  restlessly  on  the  floor.  The 
wind  whistled  dismally  outside.  He  heard  Snyder,  as 


SHOTS  IN  THE  DARK  361 

he  assumed  the  man  to  be,  cautiously  feeling  his  way 
toward  the  staircase. 

"You  may  as  well  stop  there/'  Saxton  said,  without 
moving,  and  holding  the  boy  to  the  floor  with  his  left 
hand.  He  spoke  in  sharp,  even  tones.  "It's  all  right, 
Grant,"  he  added  in  the  same  key  to  the  boy,  who  was 
crying  with  fright.  "Stay  where  you  are.  The  house 
is  surrounded,  Snyder,"  he  went  on.  "You  may  as 
well  give  in." 

The  man  said  nothing.  He  had  found  the  stairway. 
Suddenly  a  revolver  flashed  and  cracked,  and  the  man 
went  leaping  down  the  stairs.  The  ball  whistled  over 
Saxton' s  head,  and  the  boy  clutched  him  about  the  legs. 
A  bit  of  plaster,  shaken  loose  by  the  bullet,  fell  from 
the  ceiling.  The  noise  of  the  revolver  roared  through 
the  house. 

"It's  all  right,  Grant,"  Saxton  said  again. 

The  retreating  man  slipped  and  fell  at  the  landing, 
midway  of  the  stairs,  and  as  he  stumbled  to  his  feet 
Saxton  ran  back  into  the  room  from  which  the  fellow 
had  emerged.  He  threw  up  the  window  with  a  crash 
and  shouted  to  the  men  in  the  darkness  below: 

"He's  coming !  Get  out  of  the  way  and  let  him  go ! 
The  boy's  all  right !" 

He  hurried  back  into  the  hall  where  he  had  left 
Grant,  who  crouched  moaning  in  the  dark. 

"You  stay  here  a  minute,  Grant.  They  won't  get 
you  again,"  he  called  as  he  ran  down  the  steps.  One 
of  the  horses  below  was  snorting  with  fright  and  mak 
ing  a  great  clatter  with  its  hoofs.  From  the  sound 
Saxton  knew  that  the  fleeing  man  was  trying  to  mount, 
and  as  he  plunged  down  the  last  half  of  the  stairway, 


362  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

the  horse  broke  through  the  door  with  the  man  on  his 
back. 

"Let  him  go,  Warry,"  yelled  Saxton  with  all  his 
lungs. 

The  horse  was  already  across  the  threshold  at  a  leap, 
his  rider  bending  low  over  the  animal's  neck  to  avoid 
the  top  of  the  door.  Earidan  ran  forward,  taking  his 
bearings  by  sounds. 

"Stop  I"  he  shouted.  "Come  on,  Wheaton  !"  Wheaton 
was  running  toward  him  at  the  top  of  his  speed ;  Rari- 
dan  sprang  in  front  of  the  horse  and  grabbed  at  the 
throat-latch  of  its  bridle.  The  horse,  surprised, 
and  terrified  by  the  noise,  and  feeling  the  rider 
digging  his  heels  into  his  sides,  reared,  carrying  Warry 
off  his  feet. 

"Let  go,  you  fool,"  screamed  the  rider.  "Let  go,  I 
say !" 

"Let  him  alone,"  cried  Wheaton,  now  close  at  hand; 
but  Raridan  still  held  to  the  strap  at  the  throat  of  the 
plunging  horse. 

The  rider  sat  up  straight  on  his  horse  and  his  re 
volver  barked  into  the  night  twice  in  sharp  succession, 
the  sounds  crashing  against  the  house,  and  the  flashes 
lighting  up  the  struggling  horse  and  rider,,  and  Rari 
dan,  clutching  at  the  bridle.  Raridan' s  hold  loosened 
at  the  first  shot,  and  as  the  second  echoed  into  the 
night,  the  horse  leaped  free,  running  madly  down  the 
road,  past  Bishop  Delafield,  who  was  coming  rapidly 
toward  the  house.  Wheaton  and  Saxton  met  in  the 
driveway  where  Raridan  had  fallen.  The  flying  horse 
could  be  heard  pounding  down  the  hard  road. 

"Warry,  Warry !"  called  Saxton,  on  his  knees  by  his 


SHOTS  IN  THE  DAKK  363 

friend.  "Hold  the  lantern/'  he  said  to  Wheaton. 
"He's  hurt."  Raridan  said  nothing,  but  lay  very  still, 
moaning. 

"Who's  hurt?"  asked  the  bishop  coming  up.  Saxton 
had  recovered  his  own  lantern  as  he  ran  from  the 
house.  It  was  still  burning  and  Wheaton  turned  up 
the  wick.  The  three  men  bent  over  Raridan,  who  lay 
as  he  had  fallen. 

"We  must  get  him  inside/'  said  Saxton.  "The  horse 
knocked  him  down." 

The  bishop  bent  over  and  put  his  arms  under 
Raridan;  and  gathering  him  up  as  if  the  prone  man 
had  been  a  child,  he  carried  him  slowly  toward  the 
house.  Wheaton  started  ahead  with  the  lantern,  but 
Saxton  snatched  it  from  him  and  ran  through  the 
doors  into*  the  hall,  and  back  to  the  dining-room. 

"Come  in  here,"  he  called,  and  the  old  bishop  fol 
lowed,  bearing  Raridan  carefully  in  his  great  arms. 
The  others  helped  him  to  place  his  burden  on  the  long 
table  at  which,  in  Poindexter's  day,  many  light-hearted 
companies  had  gathered.  They  peered  down  upon  him 
in  the  lantern  light. 

"We  must  get  a  doctor  quick,"  said  Saxton,  half 
turning  to  go. 

"He's  badly  hurt,"  said  the  old  man.  There  was  a 
dark  stain  on  his  coat  where  Raridan  had  lain  against 
him.  He  tore  open  Raridan's  shirt  and  thrust  his  hand 
underneath;  and  when  he  drew  it  out,  shaking  his 
gray  head,  it  had  touched  something  wet.  Wheaton 
came  with  a  pail  of  water,  pumped  by  the  windmill 
into  a  trough  at  the  rear  of  the  house.  He  had  broken 
the  thin  ice  with  his  hands. 


364  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"Go  for  a  doctor/'  said  the  bishop,  very  quietly, 
nodding  to  Saxton;  "and  go  fast/' 

Wheaton  followed  Saxton  to  the  hall,  where  they  cut 
loose  the  remaining  horse.  Saxton  flung  himself  upon 
it,  and  the  animal  sprang  into  a  gallop  at  the  door. 
Wheaton  watched  the  horse  and  rider  disappear  through 
the  starlight;  he  wished  that  he  could  go  with  Sax- 
ton.  He  turned  back  with  sick  terror  to  the  room 
where  Karidan  lay  white  and  still;  but  Wheaton  was 
as  white  as  he. 

The  bishop  had  rolled  his  overcoat  into  a  support 
for  Warry's  head,  and  with  a  wet  handkerchief  laved 
his  temples.  Wheaton  stood  watching  him,  silent,  and 
anxious  to  serve,  but  with  his  powers  of  initiative 
frozen  in  him. 

"Get  the  flask  from  his  pocket,"  said  the  old  man; 
and  Wheaton  drew  near  the  table,  and  with  a  shudder 
thrust  his  hand  into  the  pocket  of  Earidan's  coat. 

"Shall  I  pour  some  ?"  he  asked.  Earidan  had  moved 
his  arms  slightly  and  groaned  as  Wheaton  bent  close 
to  him.  Wheaton  detached  the  cup  from  the  bottom  of 
the  flask  and  poured  some  of  the  brandy  into  it.  The 
bishop,  motioning  him  to  stand  ready  with  it,  raised 
Earidan  gently,  and  together  they  pressed  the  silver 
cup  to  his  lips. 

"That  will  do.  I  think  he  swallowed  a  little,"  said 
the  bishop.  "Bring  wood,  if  you  can,"  he  said,  "and 
make  a  fire  here."  Earidan' s  head  was  growing  hot 
under  his  touch,  and  he  continued  to  lave  it  gently  with 
the  wet  handkerchief.  There  was  a  shed  at  the  back 
of  the  house  where  wood  had  been  kept  in  the  old  days 
of  the  Poindexter  ascendancy,  and  Wheaton,  glad  of 


SHOTS  IN  THE  DARK  365 

an  excuse  to  get  away  from  the  prostrate  figure  on  the 
long  table,  went  stumbling  through  the  hall  to  find 
this  place.  There  was  a  terrible  silence  in  the  old 
house, — a  silence  that  filled  all  the  world,  a  silence 
that  could  not  be  broken,  it  seemed  to  him,  save  by 
some  new  thing  of  dread.  There  beyond  the  prairie, 
day  would  break  soon  in  the  town  where  he  had  striven 
and  failed, — not  the  failure  that  proceeds  from  lack  of 
opportunity  or  ability  to  gain  the  successes  which  men 
value  most,  but  the  failure  of  a  man  in  self-mastery  and 
courage. 

He  felt  his  sooil  shrivel  in  the  few  seconds  that  he 
stood  at  the  door  looking  across  the  windy  plain, — like  a 
dreamer  who  turns  from  his  dreams  and  welcomes  the 
morning  with  the  hope  that  his  dream  may  not  prove 
true.  He  drew  the  doors  together  and  turned  to  go  on 
his  errand,  lighting  a  match  to  get  his  bearings,  when 
a  sound  on  the  stairway  startled  him;  there  was  a 
figure  there — the  wan,  frightened  face  of  Grant  Porter 
looked  down  at  him.  He  had  forgotten  the  boy, 
whom  Saxton  had  left  in  the  hall  above.  Grant  shrank 
back  on  the  stairs,  not  recognizing  him.  It  seemed 
to  Wheaton  that  there  was  something  of  loathing  in 
the  boy's  movement,  and  that  always  afterward  people 
would  shrink  from  him. 

"Is  that  you,  Grant?"  he  asked.  The  boy  did  not 
answer.  "It's  all  right,  Grant,"  he  added,  trying  to 
throw  some  kindness  into  his  voice.  "You'd  better 
&tay  upstairs,  until — we're  ready  to  go." 

The  boy  turned  and  stole  back  up  the  stairway,  and 
Wheaton,  encouraged  by  the  sound  of  his  own  voice, 


366  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

brought  wood  and  kindled  it  with  some  straw  in  the 
dining-room  fireplace. 

"Let  us  try  the  brandy  again/'  said  the  bishop. 
Again  Wheaton  poured  it,  and  they  forced  a  little  be 
tween  the  lips  of  the  stricken  man.  Raridan's  face, 
as  Wheaton  touched  it  with  his  fingers,  was  warm;  he 
had  expected  to  find  it  cold;  he  had  a  feeling  that  the 
man  lying  there  must  be  dead.  If  only  help  would 
come,  Karidan  might  live!  He  would  accept  every 
thing  else,  but  to  be  a  murderer — to  have  lured  a  man 
to  his  doom!  The  bishop  did  not  speak  to  him  save 
now  and  then  a  word  in  a  low  tone,  to  call  attention  to 
some  change  in  Raridan,  or  to  aisk  help  in  moving  him. 
The  dry  wood  burned  brightly  in  the  fireplace  and 
lighted  the  room.  The  bishop  asked  the  time. 

"He  could  hardly  go  and  come  in  less  than  two 
hours,"  said  Wheaton.  He  lifted  his  head. 

"They  are  coming  now."  The  short  patter  of  pony 
hoofs  was  heard  and  he  went  into  the  hall  to  open  the 
doors.  Two  horsemen  were  just  turning  into  the  corral. 
Saxton  had  found  the  one  doctor  of  the  village  at 
home, — a  young  man  trained  in  an  eastern  hospital  but 
already  used  to  long,  rough  rides  over  the  prairies. 
The  two  men  threw  themselves  to  the  ground,  and  let 
their  ponies  run  loose.  Saxton  did  not  speak  to 
Wheaton,  who  followed  him  and  the  doctor  into  the 
house. 

"Has  he  been  conscious  at  all?"  asked  the  doctor. 

The  bishop  shook  his  head.  The  doctor  was  al 
ready  busy  with  his  examination,  and  the  three  men 
stood  and  watched  him  silently.  Saxton  stepped  for- 


SHOTS  IN  THE  DARK  367 

ward  and  helped,,  when  there  was  need,  to  turn  the 
wounded  man  and  to  strip  away  his  clothing.  The 
skilled  fingers  of  the  surgeon  worked  swiftly,  produc 
ing  shining  instruments  and  sponges  as  he  needed  them, 
from  the  blue  lining  of  his  pea.-jacket.  Suddenly  he 
paused  and  bent  down  close  to  the  stricken  man's 
heart.  He  poured  more  brandy  into  the  silver  cup  and 
Saxton  lifted  Warry  while  the  liquor  was  forced  be 
tween  his  lips.  The  doctor  stood  up  then  and  put  his 
finger  on  Raridan's  wrist.  He  had  not  spoken  and  his 
face  was  very  grave.  Saxton  touched  his  arm. 

"Is  there  nothing  more  you  can  do  now?"  The 
doctor  shook  his  head,  but  bent  again  over  Raridan, 
who  gave  a  deep  sigh  and  opened  his  eyes. 

"John,"  he  said  in  a  whisper  as  he  closed  them  again 
wearily.  The  doctor  put  Warry's  hand  down  gently, 
and  the  others,  at  a  glance  from  him,  drew  nearer. 

"John,"  he  repeated.  His  voice  was  stronger.  The 
white  light  of  dawn,  was  struggling  now  against  the 
flame  of  the  fireplace.  John  stood  on  one  side  of  the 
table,  the  doctor  on  the  other.  The  old  bishop's  tall 
figure  rose  majestically  by  the  head  of  the  dying  man. 
Wheaton  alone  hung  aloof,  but  his  eyes  were  riveted  on 
Warry  Raridan's  face. 

"It  was  another — another  of  my  foolish  chances," 
said  Warry  faintly  and  slowly,  the  words  coming  hard ; 
but  all  in  the  room  could  hear.  He  looked  from  one  to 
another,  and  seemed  to  know  who  the  doctor  was  and 
why  he  was  there. 

"The  boy's  safe  and  well.  We  got  what  we  came  for. 
Just  once — just  once, — I  got  what  I  came  for.  It 


3G8  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

wasn't  fair — in  the  dark  that  way —  His  voice  failed 
and  the  doctor  gave  him  more  brandy.  He  lay  very 
still  for  several  minutes,  with  his  eyes  closed,  while 
the  three  men  stood  as  they  had  been,  save  that  the 
surgeon  now  kept  his  finger  on  Warry's  wrist. 

"I  never — quite  arrived — quite — arrived/'  he  went 
on,  with  his  eyes  on  the  old  bishop,  as  if  this  were 
something  that  he  would  understand;  "but  you  must 
forgive  all  that."  He  smiled  in  a  patient,  tired  way. 

"You  have  been  a  good  man,  Warry,  there's  nothing 
that  can  trouble  you." 

"I  was  really  doing  better,  wasn't  I,  John  ?"  he  went 
on,  still  smiling.  "You  had  helped, — you  two," — he 
looked  from  his  young  friend  to  the  older  one,  with  the 
intentness  of  his  near-sighted  gaze.  "Tell  them" — his 
eyes  closed  and  his  voice  sank  until  it  was  almost  in 
audible,— "tell  them  at  the  hill— Evelyn— the  light  of 
all — of  all — the  year." 

The  doctor  had  put  down  Warry's  wrist  and  turned 
away.  The  dawn-wind  sweeping  across  the  prairie  shook 
the  windows  in  the  room  and  moaned  far  away  in  the 
lonely  house.  The  bishop's  great  hand  rested  gently 
on  the  dying  man's  head;  his  voice  rose  in  supplica 
tion, — the  words  coming  slowly,  as  if  he  remembered 
them  from  a  far-off  time: 

Unto  God's  gracious  mercy  and  protection  we  com 
mit  tliee.  Saxton  dropped  to  his  knees,  and  a  sob  broke 
from  him.  The  Lord  Ness  fhee,  and  keep  thee.  The 
Lord  make  his  face  to  shine  upon  thee,  and  be  gracious 
unto  thee.  The  old  man's  voice  was  very  low,  and 
sank  to  a  whisper.  The  Lord  lift  up  his  countenance 


SHOTS  IN  THE  DARK  3G9 

upon  thee  and  give  thee  peace,  both  now  and  ever 
more. 

No  one  moved  until  the  doctor  put  his  head  down  to 
Warry's  heart  to  listen.  Then  Wheaton  watched  him 
with  fascinated  eyes  as  he  gathered  up  his  instruments, 
which  shone  cold  and  bright  in  the  gray  light  of  the 
morning. 


CHAPTEE  XXXVI 

HOME  THROUGH   THE   SNOW 

There  was  much  to  do,  and  John  Saxton  had  been 
back  and  forth  twice  between  the  ranch  house  and  the 
village  before  the  sun  had  crept  high  into  the  heavens. 
The  little  village  had  been  slow  to  grasp  the  fact  of  the 
tragedy  at  its  doors  which  had  already  carried  its  name 
afar.  There  was  much  to  do  and  yet  it  was  so  pitifully 
little  after  all!  Warry  Earidan  was  dead,  and  eager 
men  were  scouring  the  country  for  his  murderer;  but 
John  Saxton  sat  in  the  room  where  Warry  had  died. 
It  seemed  to  John  that  the  end  had  come  of  all  the 
world.  He  sharpened  his  grief  with  self-reproach  that 
he  had  been  a  party  to  an  exploit  so  foolhardy:  they 
should  never  have  attempted  a  midnight  descent  upon 
an  unknown  foe;  and  yet  it  was  Earidan's  own  plan. 

It  was  like  Warry,  too,  and  the  thought  turned  John's 
memory  into  grooves  that  time  was  to  deepen.  This 
was  the  only  man  who  had  ever  brought  him  friend 
ship.  The  first  night  at  the  club  in  Clarkson,  when 
Earidan  had  spoken  to  him,  came  back,  vivid  in  all 
its  details.  He  recalled  with  a  great  ache  in  his  heart 
their  talk  there  in  the  summer  twilight;  the  charm 
that  he  had  felt  first  that  night,  and  how  Warry  had 
grown  more  and  more  into  his  life,  and  brightened  it. 

370 


HOME  THROUGH  THE  SXOW     371 

He  could  not,  in  the  fullness  of  his  sorrow,  see  himself 
again  walking  alone  the  ways  they  had  known  together. 
Even  the  town  seemed  to  him  in  these  early  hours  an 
unreal  place;  it  was  not  possible  that  it  lay  only  a  few 
hours  distant,  with  its  affairs  going  on  uninterruptedly ; 
nor  could  he  realize  that  he  would  himself  take  up 
there  the  threads  of  his  life  that  now  seemed  so  hope 
lessly  broken. 

Saxton  had  ministered  to  the  boy  Grant  with  char 
acteristic  kindness.  Grant  knew  now  of  Warry's  death, 
and  this,  with  his  own  sharp  experiences,  had  unnerved 
him.  He  clung  to  Saxton,  and  John  soothed  him  until 
he  slept,  in  one  of  the  upper  chambers. 

Wheaton  stood  suddenly  in  the  door,  and  beckoned 
to  Saxton,  who  went  out  to  him.  They  had  exchanged 
no  words  since  that  moment  when  the  old  bishop's 
prayer  had  stilled  the  room  where  Warry  Earidan  died. 
Through  the  events  of  the  morning  hours,  Wheaton  had 
been  merely  a  spectator  of  what  was  done ;  Saxton  had 
hardly  noticed  him,  and  glancing  at  Wheaton  now,  he 
was  shocked  at  the  look  of  great  age  that  had  come 
upon  him. 

"I  want  to  speak  to*  you  a  minute, — you  and  Bishop 
Delafield,"  said  Wheaton.  The  bishop  was  pacing  up 
and  down  in  the  outer  hall,  which  had  been  quietly 
cleaned  and  put  in  order  by  men  from  the  village. 
Wheaton  led  the  way  to-  the  room  once  used  as  the 
ranch  office. 

"Will  you  sit  down,  gentlemen?"  He  spoke  with  so 
much  calmness  that  the  others  looked  at  him  curiously. 
The  bishop  and  Saxton  remained  standing,  and 
Wheaton  repeated,  sharply,  "Will  you  sit  down?"  The 


372  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

two  men  sat  down  side  by  side  on  the  leather-covered 
bench  that  ran  around  the  room,  and  Wheaton  stood 
up  before  them;  and  so  they  met  together  here,  the 
three  men  left  of  the  four  who  had  come  to  the  ranch 
house  in  the  early  morning. 

"I  have  something  to  say  to  you,  before  you — before 
we  go,"  he  said.  Their  silence  seemed  to  confuse  him 
for  a  moment,  but  he  regained  his  composure.  He 
looked  from  Saxton  to  the  bishop,  who  nodded,  and 
he  went  on : 

"The  man  who  killed  Warry  Raridan  was  my 
brother/'  he  said,  and  waited. 

Saxton  started  slightly;  his  numbed  senses  quick 
ened  under  Wheaton' s  words,  and  in  a  flash  he  saw  the 
explanation  of  many  things. 

"He  was  my  brother/'  Wheaton  went  on  quietly. 
"He  had  wanted  money  from  me.  I  had  refused  to 
help  him.  He  carried  away  Grant  Porter  thinking  to 
injure  me  in  that  way.  It  was  that,  I  think,  as  much 
as  the  hope  of  getting  a  large  sum  for  the  boy's  return." 

"But—"  began  the  bishop. 

"There  are  many  questions  that  will  occur  to  you — 
and  to  others/'  Wheaton  resumed,  with  an  assurance 
that  transformed  him  for  the  moment.  He  spoke  as  of 
events  in  ages  past  which  had  no  relation  to  himself. 
"There  are  many  things  that  might  have  been  different, 
that  would  have  been  different,  if  I  had  not  been" — he 
hesitated  and  then  finished  abruptly — "if  I  had  not 
been  a  coward." 

A  great  quiet  lay  upon  the  house;  the  two  men  re 
mained  sitting,  and  Wheaton  stood  before  them  with 
his  arms  crossed,  the  bishop  and  Saxton  watching  him, 


HOME  THROUGH  THE  SNOW  373 

and  Wheaton  looking  from  one  to  the  other  of  his 
companions.  Contempt  and  anger  were  rising  in  John 
Saxton's  heart ;  but  the  old  bishop  waited  calmly ;  this 
was  not  the  first  time  that  a  troubled  soul  had  opened 
its  door  to  him. 

"Go  on,"  he  said,  kindly. 

"My  brother  and  I  ran  away  from  the  little  Ohio 
town  where  we  were  born.  Our  father  was  a  harness 
maker.  I  hated  the  place.  I  think  I  hated  my  father 
and  mother."  He  paused,  as  we  do  sometimes  when 
we  have  suddenly  spoken  a  thought  which  we  have 
long  carried  in  our  hearts  but  have  never  uttered. 
The  words  had  elements  of  surprise  for  James 
Wheaton,  and  he  waited,  weighing  his  words  and  wish 
ing  to  deal  justly  with  himself.  "My  brother  was  a 
bad  boy;  he  had  never  gone  to  school,  as  I  had;  he 
had  several  times  been  guilty  of  petty  stealing.  I 
joined  him  once  in  a  theft;  we  were  arrested,  but  he 
took  the  blame  and  was  punished,  and  I  went  free.  I 
am  not  sure  that  I  was  any  better,  or  that  I  am  now 
any  better  than  he  is.  But  that  is  the  only  time  I  ever 
stole." 

Saxton  remembered  that  Warry  had  once  said  of 
James  Wheaton  that  he  would  not  steal. 

"I  wanted  to  be  honest ;  I  tried  my  best  to  do  right. 
I  never  expected  to  do  as  well  as  I  have — I  mean  in 
business  and  things  like  that.  Then  after  all  the  years 
in  which  I  had  not  seen  anything  of  my  brother  he 
came  into  the  bank  one  day  as  a  tramp,  begging,  and 
recognized  me.  At  first  I  helped  him.  I  sent  him 
here;  you  will  remember  the  man  Snyder  you  found 
here  when  you  came,"  turning  to  Saxton.  "I  knew 


374  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

you  would  not  keep  him.  There  was  nothing  else  that 
I  could  do  for  him.  I  had  new  ambitions/'  his  voice 
fell  and  broke,  "there  were — there  were  other  things 
that  meant  a  great  deal  to  me — I  could  not  have  him 
about.  It  was  he  who  assaulted  me  one  night  at  Mr. 
Porter's  two  years  ago,  when  you/''  he  turned  to  the 
bishop,  "came  up  and  drove  him  away.  After  that  I 
gave  him  money  to  leave  the  country  and  he  promised 
to  stay  away;  but  he  began  blackmailing  me  again, 
and  I  thought  then  that  I  had  done  enough  for  him 
and  refused  to  help  him  any  more.  When  Grant  Por 
ter  disappeared  I  knew  at  once  what  had  happened. 
He  had  threatened — but  there  is  something — some 
thing  wrong  with  me !" 

These  last  words  broke  from  him  like  a  cry,  and  he 
staggered  suddenly  an,d  would  have  fallen  if  Saxton 
had  not  sprung  up  andi  caught  him.  He  recovered 
quickly  and  sat  down  on  the  bench. 

"Let  us  drop  this  now,"  said  Saxton,  standing  over 
him;  "it's  no  time — " 

"There's  something  wrong  with  me,"  said  Wheaton 
huskily,  without  heeding,  and  Saxton  drew  back  from 
him.  "I  was  a  vain,  cowardly  fool.  But  I  did  the 
best  I  could,"  he  passed  his  hand  over  his  face,  and  his 
fingers  crept  nervously  to  his  collar,  "but  it  wasn't  any 
use !  It  wasn't  any  use !"  He  turned  again  to  the 
bishop.  "I  heard  you  preach  a  sermon  once.  It  was 
about  our  opportunities.  You  said  we  must  live  in 
the  open.  I  had  never  thought  of  that  before,"  and  he 
looked  at  the  bishop  with  a  foolish  grin  on  his  face. 
He  stood  up  suddenly  and  extended  his  arms.  "Now  I 
want  you  to  tell  me  what  to  do.  I  want  to  be  pun- 


HOME  THROUGH  THE  SNOW     375 

ished!  This  man's  blood  is  on  my  hands.  I  want  to 
be  punished !"  And  he  sank  to  the  floor  in  a  heap,  re 
peating,,  as  if  to  himself,  "I  want  to>  be  punished!" 

There  are  two  great  crises  in  the  life  of  a  man.  One 
is  that  moment  of  disclosure  when  for  the  first  time  he 
recognizes  some  vital  weakness  in  his  own  character. 
The  other  comes  when,  under  stress,  he  submits  this 
defect  to  the  eyes  of  another.  James  Wheaton  hardly 
knew  when  he  had  realized  the  first,  but  he  was  con 
scious  now  that  he  had  passed  the  second.  It  had  car 
ried  him  like  a  high  tide  to  a  point  of  rest ;  but  it  was 
a  point  of  helplessness,  too. 

"It  isn't  for  us  to  punish  you,"  the  bishop  began, 
"and  I  do  not  see  that  you  have  transgressed  any  law." 

"That  is  it !  that  is  it !  It  would  be  easier  !  I  would 
to  God  I  had !"  moaned  Wheaton.  John  turned  away. 
James  Wheaton' s  face  was  not  good  to  see. 

"Yes,  it  would  be  easier,"  the  bishop  continued. 
"Man's  penalties  are  lighter  than  God's.  I  can  see  that 
in  going  back  to  Clarkson  many  things  will  be  hard  for 
you—" 

"I  can't!  Oh,  I  can't!"  He  still  crouched  on  the 
floor,  with  his  arms  extended  along  the  bench. 

"But  that  is  the  manly  thing  for  you.  If  you  have 
acted  a  cowardly  part,  now  is  the  time  for  you  to 
change,  and  you  must  change  on  the  field  of  battle.  I 
can  imagine  the  discomfort  of  facing  your  old  friends; 
that  you  will  suffer  keen  humiliation;  that  you  may 
have  to  begin  again ;  but  you  must  do  it,  my  friend,  if 
you  wish  to  rise  above  yourself,  and  you  may  depend 
upon  my  help." 

The  old  man  had  spoken  with  emphasis,  but  with 


376  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

great  gentleness.  He  turned  to  Saxton,  wishing  him 
to  speak. 

"The  bishop  is  right.  You  must  go  back  with  us, 
Wheaton."  But  he  did  not  say  that  he  would  help 
him.  John  Saxton  neither  forgot  nor  forgave  easily. 
He  did  not  see  in  this  dark  hour  what  he  had  to  do 
with  James  Wheaton's  affairs.  But  the  Bishop  of  Clark- 
son  went  over  to  James  Wheaton  and  lifted  him  up;  it 
was  as  though  he  would  make  the  physical  act  carry  a 
spiritual  aid  with  it. 

"We  can  talk  of  this  to  better  purpose  when  we  get 
home/'  he  said.  "You  are  broken  now  and  see  your 
future  darkly;  but  I  say  to  you  that  you  can  be  re 
stored;  there's  light  and  hope  ahead  for  you.  If  there 
is  any  meaning  in  my  ministry  it  is  that  with  the  help 
of  God  a  man  may  come  out  of  darkness  into  the  light 
again." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Wheaton  sat  bent 
forward  on  the  bench,  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and 
his  face  in  his  hands. 

"They  are  waiting  for  us,"  said  Saxton. 

A  special  train  was  sent  to  Great  River,  and  the 
little  party  waited  for  it  on  the  station  platform,  sur 
rounded  by  awed  villagers,  who  stood  silent  in  the 
presence  of  death  and  a  mystery  which  they  but  dimly 
comprehended.  Officers  of  the  law  from  Clarkson  came 
with  the  train  and  surrounded  Bishop  Delafield,  Wheat 
on  and  Saxton  as  they  stood  with  Grant  Porter  by  the 
rude  bier  of  Warry  Earidan.  The  men  answered  many 
questions  and  the  sheriff  of  the  county  took  the  de 
tectives  away  with  him.  Margrave  had  sent  his  private 


HOME  THROUGH  THE  SNOW  377 

car,  and  the  returning  party  were  huddled  in  one  end 
of  it,  save  John  Saxton,  who  sat  alone  with  the  body 
of  Warry  Raridan.  The  train  was  to  go  back  imme 
diately,  but  it  waited  for  the  west-bound  express  which 
followed  it  and  passed  the  special  here.  There  was  a 
moment's  confusion  as  the  special  with  its  dark  burden 
was  switched  into  a  siding  to  allow  the  regular  train  to 
pass.  Then  the  special  returned  to  the  main  track  and 
began  its  homeward  journey. 

John  sat  with  his  arms  folded,  sunk  into  his  great 
coat,  and  watched  the  gray  landscape  through  the  snow 
that  was  falling  fast.  The  events  of  the  night  seemed 
like  a  hideous  dream.  It  was  an  inconceivable  thing 
that  within  a  few  hours  so-  dire  a  calamity  could  have 
fallen.  The  very  nearness  of  the  city  to  which  they 
were  bound  added  to  the  unreality  of  all  that  had  hap 
pened.  But  there  the  dark  burden  lay;  and  the  snow 
fell  upon  the  gray  earth  and  whitened  it,  as  if  to 
cleanse  and  remake  it  and  blot  out  its  dolor  and 
dread.  The  others  left  Saxton  alone;  he  was  nearer 
tfian  they ;  but  late  in  the  afternoon,  as  they  approached 
the  city,  Captain  Wheelock  came  in  and  touched  him 
on  the  shoulder;  Bishop  Delafield  wished  to  see  him. 
John  rose,  giving  Wheelock  his  place,  and  went  back 
to  where  the  old  man  sat  staring  out  at  the  snow.  He 
beckoned  Saxton  to  sit  down  by  him. 

"Where's  Wheaton?"  the  bishop  asked. 

John  looked  at  him  and  at  the  other  men  who  sat  in 
silence  about  the  car.  He  went  to  one  of  them  and 
repeated  the  bishop's  question,  but  was  told  that 
Wheaton  was  not  on  the  train.  He  had  been  at  the 
station  and  had  come  aboard  the  car  with  the  rest;  but 


378  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

he  must  have  returned  to  the  station  and  been  left. 
John  remembered  the  passing  of  the  west-bound  ex 
press,  and  went  back  and  told  the  bishop  that  Wheaton 
had  not  come  with  them.  The  old  man  shook  his  head 
and  turned  again  to  the  window  and  the  flying  pano 
rama  of  the  snowy  landscape.  John  sat  by  him,,  and 
neither  spoke  until  the  train's  speed  diminished  at  a 
crossing  on  the  outskirts  of  Clarkson.  Then  suddenly,, 
hot  at  heart  and  with  tears  of  sorrow  and  rage  in  his 
eyes,  Saxton  said,  so  that  only  the  bishop  could  hear : 

"He's  a,  damned  coward!" 

The  Bishop  of  Clarkson  stared  steadily  out  upon  the 
snow  with  troubled  eyes. 


CHAPTEE  XXXYII 


It  was  Fenton  who  most  nearly  voiced  the  public 
sorrow  at  the  death  of  Warrick  Earidan.  His  address 
at  the  memorial  meeting  of  the  Clarkson  Bar  Associa 
tion  surprised  the  community,  which  knew  Fenton  only 
as  a  corporation  lawyer  who  rarely  made  speeches,  even 
to  juries.  Fenton  put  into  words  the  general  appraise 
ment  of  Warry  Earidan — his  social  grace  and  charm, 
his  wit  and  variety.  People  who  hardly  knew  that 
Earidan  had  been  a  lawyer  were  surprised  that  the 
leader  of  the  Clarkson  bar  dwelt  upon  his  instinctive 
grasp  of  legal  questions,  "the  thoroughness  of  his  re 
search  and  the  clarity  and  force  with  which  he  pre 
sented  legal  propositions."  Earidan  was  a  lawyer  with 
an  imagination,  Fenton  said,  thus  seizing  what  had 
been  considered  a  weakness  of  character  and  making  it 
count  as  an  element  of  strength.  Fenton  was  not  given 
to  careless  praise,  and  what  he  said  of  Earidan  had 
much  to  do  with  formulating  the  opinion  that  was  to 
pass  into  Clarkson  history.  The  last  few  months  of 
Warry's  life  had  won  him  this  eulogy — the  work  which 
he  had  done  for  Evelyn.  Fenton  had  learned  to  know 
him  well  after  the  appointment  of  Saxton  as  re 
ceiver.  He  had  thrown  a  number  of  important  ques- 

379 


380  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

tions  to  Warry  to  investigate,  and  he  had  been  amazed 
at  his  young  lieutenant's  capacity  and  industry.  He 
did  not  know  that  a  woman  had  been  the  inspiration 
of  this  work;  he  thought  that  it  proceeded  from  Sax- 
ton's  influence  and  the  pleasure  Warry  found  in  labor 
that  brought  him  near  his  friend. 

It  was  not  alone  Warry's  death,  but  the  sharp,  tragic 
manner  of  it,  so  wretchedly  inconsonant  with  his  life, 
that  grieved  and  shocked  the  community.  But  this 
too  had  its  compensations;  for  many  read  into  his 
life  now  a  recklessness  and  daring  which  it  had  lacked. 
They  spoke  of  him  as  though  he  had  been  a  young 
soldier  who  had  fallen  at  the  first  skirmish,  without 
having  been  tried  in  battle;  all  spoke  of  his  promise 
and  mourned  that  his  life  had  been  harvested  before 
he  had  finished  sowing.  On  every  hand  his  good  deeds 
were  recounted;  many  unknown  witnesses  rose  to  tell 
of  acts  of  generosity  and  kindness  which  would  never 
have  been  disclosed  in  his  lifetime.  Those  who  had 
really  known  him  no  longer  lamented  his  erratic  habits. 
They  now  magnified  his  talents;  and  his  whimsical, 
fanciful  ways  they  attributed  to  genius. 

It  was  much  easier  to  account  for  Earidan  than  to 
explain  Wheaton.  Most  of  the  people  of  Clarkson  did 
not  understand  his  flight,  if  he  had  neither  stolen  the 
bank's  money  nor  killed  Warry  Earidan.  There  was  a 
disposition  for  a  time  to  reject  the  story  of  the  tragedy 
at  the  Poindexter  ranch  house  as  it  had  been  given  out 
by  Bishop  Delafield  and  John  Saxton;  but  the  bishop's 
word  in  the  matter  was  final;  he  was  not  a  man  to 
conceal  the  truth.  Those  who  had  seen  most  of 
Wheaton  were  the  most  puzzled.  The  men  who  re- 


/fA  PECULIAR  BRICK"  381 

mained  at  The  Bachelors'  were  stunned  by  the  whole 
affair,  but  in  particular  they  failed  to  grasp  the  curious 
phase  presented  Dy  Wheaton's  connection — or  lack  of 
connection — with  it.  They  expected  him  to  return, 
and  even  discussed  what  should  be  their  attitude  toward 
him  if  he  came  back.  As  the  days  passed  and  nothing 
was  heard,  they  gradually  ceased  talking  of  him;  but 
by  silent  assent  no  one  took  the  seat  he  had  occupied 
at  their  table.  When  presently  the.  landlord  sent 
Wheaton's  things  to  be  stored  in  the  cellar,  and  new 
men  appeared  in  the  places  of  Raridan  and  Wheaton, 
they  exchanged  the  oblong  table  for  a  round  one,  to 
take  away  whatever  ill  luck  might  follow  the  places 
of  the  lost  members  of  their  board. 

The  chief  shock  to  William  Porter  was  a  shock  to  his 
pride.  He  had  trusted  Wheaton  as  implicitly  as  he 
trusted  any  man,  and  while  his  trust  at  all  times  had 
limitations,  he  had  extended  these  beyond  precedent 
in  James  Wheaton's  case.  Saxton  and  Bishop  Delafield 
had  gone  to  him  as  soon  as  possible,  with  Fenton.  It 
was  important  for  Porter  to  understand  exactly  what 
had  occurred  at  the  Poindexter  ranch  house.  The 
newspapers  had  now  announced  Wheaton's  flight;  it 
was  natural  that  the  bank  should  fall  under  suspicion, 
and  that  all  of  Porter's  interests  should  be  jeopardized. 
A  cashier  implicated  in  some  way  in  a  murder,  and  in 
full  flight  for  parts  unknown,  created  a  situation  which 
could  not  be  ignored.  But  Porter  met  the  issue  squarely 
and  sanely. 

The  expert  accountants  who  were  put  to  work  on  the 
bank's  books  made  an  absolutely  clean  report,  and  the 


382  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

minutest  scrutiny  of  the  securities  of  the  bank  proved 
everything  intact.  Wheaton  had  been  a  master  of  order 
and  system.  The  searching  investigation  of  experts 
and  directors  revealed  nothing  that  was  not  creditable 
to  the  missing  cashier. 

"Well,  sir/'  said  Porter,  "you've  got  me.  I  guess 
Jim  was  crooked  some  way,  but  he  didn't  do  us  up.  I 
guess  there's  nothing  we  can  say  against  him." 

"His  case  is  unusual,"  said  Fenton.  "I  think  we'd 
better  leave  it  to  the  psychologists." 

It  was  necessary  to  fill  Wheaton's  place,  and  while 
they  were  casting  about  for  a  cashier  Porter  and 
Thompson  received  offers  from  a  Chicago  syndi 
cate  for  their  stock  in  the  bank.  The  offer  wa.s  ad 
vantageous;  both  of  the  founders  were  old  and  both 
were  in  broken  health.  They  debated  long  what  they 
should  do<.  The  bank  was  a  child  of  their  own  creat 
ing;  Porter  was  particularly  loath  to  part  with  it;  but 
Evelyn,  to  whom  he  brought  the  matter  in  a  new  spirit 
of  dependence  on  her,  finally  prevailed  upon  him. 
They  closed  with  the  offer  of  the  syndicate,  parting 
with  the  control  but  remaining  in  the  directorate. 
Porter  had  other  interests  that  required  his  attention, 
chief  among  which  was  the  Traction  Company;  and 
after  the  bank  question  had  been  determined,  he  gave 
himself  to  a  careful  study  of  its  affairs. 

"I  guess  this  thing  ain't  so  terribly  rotten  after  all," 
he  said  one  day,  at  a  conference  with  Saxton  and 
Fenton.  The  earnings  were  steadily  increasing. 

"No,  it's  making  a  showing  now,  and  unless  you 
want  to  keep  it  for  a  long  run  you  had  better  sell  it 
before  you  get  into  a  strike  or  a  row  with  the  city  au- 


"A  PECULIAR  BEIGE;"  333 

thorities  or  something  like  that,  to  spoil  it.  And  I  fan 
cy  that  Saxton's  making  a  showing  that  the  next  fellow, 
can't  beat.  One  thing's  sure/7  said  Fenton,  "some 
extensions  and  improvements  have  got  to  be  made  the 
coming  summer,,  and  they  will  take  money." 

"Well,  we  won't  make  them/'  Porter  declared.  "We'll 
reorganize  and  bond  and  get  out." 

While  the  newspapers,  and  the  judge  of  the  court  to 
whom  he  reported,  praised  Saxton,  Porter  never  praised 
him.  It  was  not  his  way;  but  Fenton  took  care  that 
Porter  should  understand  fully  the  value  of  Saxton's 
services.  Praise  had  not  often  been  John  Saxton's 
portion,  and  he  was  not  seriously  troubled  by  Porter's 
apparent  indifference.  He  was  not  working  for  Wil 
liam  Porter,  he  told  himself,  at  times  when  Porter's 
attitude  annoyed  him;  he  was  working  for  the  United 
States  District  Court;  and  he  went  on  doing  his  duty 
as  he  saw  it.  He  was,  however,  anxious  to  be  relieved, 
but  Fenton  begged  him  to  remain  through  the  reor 
ganization.  He  liked  Saxton  and  admired  his  steady 
persistence.  Together  they  worked  out  the  problem  of 
the  proposed  new  company,  and  managed  it  with  so 
much  tact  and  self-effacement  that  Porter  believed  all 
their  suggestions  to  have  originated  with  himself. 

"It's  simpler  that  way,"  said  Fenton,  speaking  to 
Saxton  one  day  of  the  necessity  of  this  method  of  pro 
cedure.  "He's  a  perfect  brick,  and  he'll  like  us  a  lot 
better  if  we  let  him  think  he's  doing  all  the  work." 

"He  is  a  brick  all  right,"  said  John  thoughtfully, 
"but  he's  a  peculiar  brick." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

OLD   PHOTOGRAPHS 

In  the  days  that  followed.,  John  Saxton  knew  again 
the  heartache  and  loneliness  which  he  had  known  before 
Warry  Karidan  came  into  his  life.  He  had  lost  the 
first  real  friend  he  had  ever  had,  and  his  days  were  once 
more  empty  of  light  and  cheer.  His  work  still  en 
grossed  him,,  but  it  failed  to  bring  him  the  happiness 
which  he  had  found  in  it  when  he  and  Warry  discussed 
its  perplexities  together.  His  memory  sought  its  old 
ruts  again;  the  hardship  and  failure  of  his  years  in 
Wyoming  were  like  fresh  wounds.  He  talked  to  no 
one  except  Bishop  Delafield,  who  had  reasoned  him 
out  of  his  self-indictment  for  Warry's  death.  He  did  not 
know  that  his  own  part  in  the  recovery  of  Grant  Porter, 
as  Bishop  Delafield  described  it,  was  touched  with  a 
fine  and  generous  courage,  and  he  would  have  resented 
it  if  he  had  known. 

Warry  was  constantly  in  his  thoughts ;  but  he  thought 
much  of  Evelyn  too;  through  all  the  years  to  come,  he 
told  himself,  he  would  remember  them  and  they  would 
be  his  ideals.  Echoes  of  the  gossip  which  connected 
Warry's  name  and  Evelyn's  reached  him,  and  he  felt 
no  shock  that  such  surmises  should  be  afloat.  Warry 
and  he  had  understood  each  other;  they  had  talked  of 

384 


OLD  PHOTOGRAPHS  385 

Evelyn  frequently;  Warry  had  come  to  him  often  with 
the  confidences  of  a  despairing  lover,  and  John  had 
encouraged  and  consoled  him.  He  predicted  his  ulti 
mate  success ;  it  had  always  seemed  to  him  an  inevitable 
thing  that  Warry  and  Evelyn  should  marry. 

Three  weeks  passed  before  he  saw  her,  and  then  he 
went  to  her  with  an  excuse  for  his  visit  in  his  mind 
and  heart.  Warry  had  left  a  will  in  which  the  bulk 
of  his  property — and  it  was  a  respectable  fortune- 
was  given  for  the  endowment  of  a  hospital  for  children. 
Saxton  was  named  as  executor  and  as  a  trustee  of  the 
fund  thus  set  apart.  Warry  had  never  mentioned  the 
matter  to  any  one;  he  had  probably  never  thought  of 
it  very  seriously,  and  John  wished  to  talk  to  Evelyn 
about  it. 

It  seemed  strange  that  the  Porter  drawing-room  was 
the  same,  when  everything  else  had  changed;  he  had 
not  been  there  since  the  afternoon  when  he  walked  home 
with  Evelyn  through  the  cold.  He  despised  himself 
for  that  now;  it  was  an  act  of  disloyalty  to  Warry; 
but  he  would  now  be  more  loyal  to  the  dead  than  he 
had  been  to  the  living. 

As  they  talked  together  he  saw  no  change  in  her; 
and  he  felt  himself  wondering  what  manner  of  change 
it  was  that  he  had  expected  to  find.  He  had  heard  of 
people  who  aged  suddenly  with  grief,  but  Evelyn  was 
the  same,  save  for  a  greater  composure,  a  more  sub 
dued  note  of  manner  and  voice.  She  bent  forward  in  her 
deep  interest  in  what  he  told  her  of  Warry's  bequest.  He 
wished  her  help,  and  asked  for  it  as  if  it  were  her  right 
to  give  it.  Surely  no  one  had  a  better  claim  than  she, 
he  thought. 


386  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"It  is  so  like  Warry,"  she  said.  "It  will  be  a  beau 
tiful  memorial,  and  there  is  enough  to  do  it  very 
handsomely." 

"He  liked  things  to  be  done  well/'  said  John.  He 
marveled  that  she  could  speak  of  it  so  quietly.  Failure 
and  grief  possessed  his  eyes,  and  Evelyn  was  conscious 
of  a  deepening  of  the  pathos  she  had  always  seen  and 
felt  in  him,  as  he  sat  talking  of  his  dead  friend.  She 
pitied  him,  and  was  obedient  to  his  evident  wish  to 
talk  of  Warry. 

John  spoke  of  Warry's  last  photographs,  and  Evelyn 
went  and  brought  a  number  which  he  had  never  seen. 
Several  of  them  dated  back  to  Warry's  boyhood.  They 
were  odd  and  interesting — boyish  pictures  which  the 
spectacles  made  appear  preternaturally  old.  One  of 
these,  that  John  liked  particularly,  Evelyn  asked  him 
to  take,  and  his  face  lighted  with  pleasure  when  she 
made  it  plain  that  she  wished  him  to  have  it.  She 
told  of  some  of  Warry's  pranks  in  their  childhood,  and 
they  laughed  over  them  with  guarded  mirth. 

"It  was  wonderful  that  so  many  kinds  of  people 
were  fond  of  Warry,"  said  Evelyn.  "He  never  tried  to 
please,  and  yet  no  man  in  town  ever  had  so  many 
friends." 

"It's  like  genius,  I  suppose,"  said  John.  "It's  some 
thing  in  people  that  wins  admiration.  No  one  can 
define  it  or  explain  it.  I  think,  though,"  he  added  in 
a  lower  tone,  "I  know  how  it  was  in  my  own  case.  I 
had  always  wanted  a  friend  like  him  to  take  me  out 
of  myself  and  help  me;  but  a  man  like  Warry  had 
never  come  my  way  before;  and  if  he  had  he  would 
probably  have  been  in  a  hurry." 


OLD  PHOTOGRAPHS  387 

He  laughed  and  then  was  very  grave.  "But  Warry 
always  had  time  for  me."  At  his  last  words  he  looked 
up  at  her  and  saw  tears  shining  in  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  forgive  me — forgive  me  !"  he  cried.  "It  must — 
I  know  it  must  hurt  you  to  talk  of  him.  But  I  couldn't 
help  it.  I  thought  you  must  understand  what  he  meant 
to  me.  Dear  old  Warry!" 

He  held  in  his  hand  the  little  card  photograph  she 
had  given  him,,  and  he  rose  and  thrust  it  into  his  pocket. 

"He  was  a  charming,  gentle  spirit,"  said  Evelyn. 
"It  will  mean  a  great  deal  to  us  that  we  knew  him1. 
You  meant  a  great  deal  to  him,  Mr.  Saxton.  You 
helped  him.  It  was — "  She  halted,  confused,  and  had 
evidently  intended  to  say  more.  The  color  suddenly 
mounted  to  her  face.  She  did  not  offer  him  her  hand 
which  he  had  stepped  forward  to  take,  and  he  dropped 
his  own,  which  he  had  half  extended. 

"Good  night."     Her  eyes  followed  him  to  the  hall. 

On  his  way  home — he  still  lived  at  the  club — John 
reviewed,  sentence  by  sentence,  his  talk  with  Evelyn. 
He  had  not  expected  her  to  speak  so  frankly  of  Warry; 
but,  he  told  himself,  it  was  like  her.  He  touched  the 
photograph  she  had  given  him,  and  held  it  up  as  he 
passed  under  an  arc  lamp  to  be  sure  of  it.  He  was 
surprised  that  she  had  given  it  to  him;  he  did  not 
think  a  girl  would  give  away  a  rare  picture  of  a  dead 
lover,  which  must  have  a  peculiar  sacredness  for  her. 
Then  he  was  angry  with  himself  for  a  thought  that 
criticised  her.  She  had  given  it  to  him  because  he 
was  Warry' s  friend ! 

When  he  reached  his  room  he  put  the  photograph  of 
Warry  on  his  table  and  took  another  similar  card  from 
a  drawer.  It  was  the  little  picture  of  Evelyn  which  he 


388  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

had  often  seen  on  Warry's  dressing-table.  It  showed 
her  standing  by  a  tall  chair;  her  hair  hung  in  long 
braids.  It  was  very  girlish  and  quaint;  but  it  was 
unmistakably  Evelyn. 

Warry  in  his  will  had  directed  that  John  should  have 
such  of  his  personal  effects  as  he  might  choose;  the 
remainder  he  was  to  destroy  or  sell.  John  chose  a 
few  of  the  books  that  Warry  had  liked  best,  and  the 
picture.  He  put  it  down  now  beside  the  photograph 
of  Warry.  They  bore  the  name  of  the  same  photog 
rapher,  and  had  probably  been  taken  in  the  same  year. 
He  lighted  his  pipe  and  tramped  back  and  forth 
across  the  floor,  occasionally  stopping  at  his  desk  to 
look  at  the  cards  carefully.  He  had  no  right  to 
Evelyn  Porter's  picture,  he  told  himself.  He  was  tak 
ing  advantage  of  his  dead  friend's  kindness  to  appro 
priate  it.  He  would  not  destroy  it;  he  would  give  it 
to  some  one — to  Mrs.  Whipple,  to  Evelyn  herself !  Yes, 
it  should  be  to  Evelyn;  a/nd  having  reached  this  con 
clusion,  he  put  the  two  pictures  away  together  and 
went  to  bed. 

The  next  day  he  was  called  away  unexpectedly  to 
Colorado  to  close  a  sale  of  the  Neponset  Trust  Com 
pany's  interest  in  the  irrigation  company.  The  call 
came  inopportunely,  as  the  plans  for  the  reorganization 
of  the  Traction  Company  were  not  yet  perfected;  but 
the  matter  was  urgent,  and  Fenton  told  him  to  go. 
There  was  not  time,  he  assured  himself,  to  return  the 
photograph  before  leaving,  so  he  carried  both  the  little 
cards  away  with  him,  with  a  half-formed  intention 
of  sending  Evelyn's  to  her  from  Denver;  but  when  he 
returned  to  Clarkson  he  still  carried  the  photographs 
in  his  pocket. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 


"It  is  cruel  of  them  to  say  it!" 

Evelyn  was  at  the  Whipples'.  It  was  a  morning  in 
May.  Spring  possessed  the  valley.  The  long  vistas 
across  the  hills  were  closing  as  the  leaves  crept  into 
the  trees  again.  The  windows  were  open,  and  the 
snowy  curtains  swayed  to  the  wind.  Lilacs  again  in 
the  Whipples'  dooryard  bloomed,  and  the  general's 
young  cherry  trees  were  white  with  blossoms.  It  was 
not  well  that  any  one  should  be  heavy  of  heart  on  such 
a  morning,  but  Evelyn  Porter  was  not  happy.  She  sat 
leaning  forward  with  both  hands  resting  on  the  ivory 
ball  of  her  parasol.  A  querulous  note  crept  into  her 
voice.  It  is  strange  how  the  heartache  to  which  the 
face  never  yields  finds  a  ready  prey  in  the  voice. 

"It  is  cruel  O'f  them  to  say  it !" 

"But  it  is  natural  too,  dear/'  said  Mrs.  Whipple. 
"Many  people  must  have  wondered  about  you  and 
Warry.  If  it  will  help  any,  I  will  confess  that  I  won 
dered  a  good  deal  myself.  Now  you  won't  mind,  will 
you?  It  seems  hard,  now  that  he  has  gone — but  be 
fore — before,  it  was  not  unreasonable !" 

"But  the  gossip !  I  don't  care  for  myself,  but  it  is 
cruel  to  him,  to  his  memory,  that  this  should  be  said. 

389 


390  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

If  it  had  been  true;  if — if  we  had  been  engaged,  it 
would  not  be  so  wretched ;  but  this — oh,  it  hurts  me !" 
She  lay  back  in  her  chair.  Her  eyes  were  over-bright  j 
her  words  ended  in  a  wail. 

Mrs.  Whipple  felt  that  Evelyn's  view  of  the  matter 
was  absurd.  If  the  people  of  Clarkson  were  trying  to 
read  an  element  of  romance  into  Warry  Earidan's 
death,  they  were  certainly  working  no  injury  to  his 
memory.  Such  a  view  of  the  matter  was  fantastic. 
Evelyn  did  not  know  that  another  current  story  coupled 
her  name  with  that  of  James  Wheaton,  who  was  spoken 
of  in  some  quarters,  and  even  guardedly  in  newspapers 
outside  of  Clarkson,  as  Earidan's  rival  for  the  affec 
tions  of  William  Porter's  daughter.  Mrs.  Whipple  had 
shuddered  hourly  since  the  tragedy  at  Poindexter's 
when  she  remembered  how  much  Wheaton  had  been 
about  with  Evelyn.  He  had  been  with  her  almost  as 
much  as  Warry.  Mrs.  Whipple  recalled  the  carnival  of 
two  years  ago  with  shame.  Her  heart  smote  her  as 
she  watched  the  girl.  It  was  a  hideous  thing  that  evil 
should  have  crept  so  near  her  life.  Wheaton  had  been 
a  strange  species  of  reptile  among  them  all. 

"Poor  dear !  You  must  not  take  it  so  !"  The  silence 
had  grown  oppressive.  It  was  incumbent  upon  her  to 
comfort  the  girl  if  she  could. 

"It  isn't  a  thing  that  you  can  help,  child.  There's 
no  way  of  stopping  gossip ;  and  if  they  persist  in  saying 
such  things,  they  will  have  to  say  them,  that's  all.  If 
you  wish — if  it  will  help  you  any,  I  will  refute  it  when 
I  can — I  mean  among  our  friends  only." 

"Oh,  no !  That  would  make  it  worse.  Please  don't 
say  anything!" 


"IT  IS  CRUEL"  391 

Mrs.  Whipple  did  not  accept  solicitude  for  Warry's 
memory  as  a  sufficient  explanation  of  Evelyn's  troubles ; 
nor  was  it  like  Evelyn  to  complain  of  gossip  about  her 
self.  The  girl  had  naturally  felt  Warry's  death 
deeply;  she  made  no  secret  of  her  great  fondness  for 
him.  But  if  Evelyn  had  really  cared  for  Warry  with 
more  than  a  friendly  regard,  she  would  never  have 
come  to  her  in  this  way.  She  assumed  this  hypothesis 
as  she  made  irrelevant  talk  with  the  girl.  Then  she 
thought  of  Wheaton;  if  Wheaton  had  been  the  one 
Evelyn  had  cared  for — if  Warry  had  been  the  friend 
and  he  the  lover!  She  gave  rein  for  a  moment  to  this 
idea.  Perhaps  Evelyn  followed  the  man  now  with 
sympathy — the  thought  was  repulsive;  she  rejected  it 
instantly  with  self-loathing  for  having  harbored  an  idea 
that  wronged  Evelyn  so  miserably. 

"What  father  feels  is  that  his  mistake  in  Wheaton 
argues  a  great  weakness  in  himself/'  Evelyn  was  saying. 
She  was  more  tranquil  now.  Mrs.  Whipple  noticed 
that  she  spoke  Wheaton' s  name  without  hesitation ;  she 
had  dropped  the  prefix  of  respect,  as  every  one  had. 
We  have  a  way  of  eliminating  it  in  speaking  of  men 
who  are  markedly  good  or  bad. 

"Father  takes  it  very  hard.  He  isn't  naturally  mor 
bid,  but  he  seems  to  feel  as  if  he  had  been  responsible — • 
Grant  being  back  of  it  all.  But  we  didn't  know  those 
men  were  going  out  there — we  knew  nothing  until  it 
was  all  over!"  The  girl  spoke  as  if  she  too  felt  the 
responsibility.  "And  he  thinks  he  ought  to  have  known 
about  Wheaton — ought  to  have  seen  what  kind  of  man 
he  was!" 

Evelyn's  blue  foulard  was  beyond  criticism  and  it 


393  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

matched  her  parasol  perfectly ;  the  girl  had  never  been 
prettier.  Mrs.  Whipple  inwardly  apologized  for  having 
admitted  the  thought  of  Wheaton  to  her  mind. 

"We  can  all  accuse  ourselves  in  the  same  way.  To 
think  of  it — that  he  has  actually  passed  tea  in  this  very 
room !"  Her  shrug  of  loathing  was  so  real  that  Evelyn 
shuddered. 

Then  Mrs.  Whipple  laughed,  so  suddenly  that  it 
startled  Evelyn. 

"It's  dreadful !  horrible !"  Mrs.  Whipple  continued, 
"to  find  that  a  person  you  have  really  looked  upon  with 
liking — perhaps  with  admiration — has  been  all  along 
eaten  with  a  moral  leprosy.  If  it  weren't  for  poor 
Warry  we  should  be  able  to  look  upon  it  as  a  profitable 
experience.  There  aren't  many  like  Wheaton.  The 
bishop  thinks  we  ought  to  be  lenient  in  dealing  with 
him — that  he  was  not  really  so  bad ;  that  he  was  simply 
weak — that  his  weakness  was  a  kind  of  disease  of  his 
moral  nature.  But  I  can't  see  it  that  way  myself.  The 
man  ought  not  to  go  scot-free.  He  ought  to  be  pun 
ished.  But  it's  too  intangible  and  subtle  for  the  law 
to  take  hold  of." 

Evelyn  had  picked  up  her  card-case.  It  was  a  pretty 
trifle  of  silver  and  leather;  she  tapped  the  handle  of 
her  parasol  with  it.  Something  had  occurred  to  Mrs. 
Whipple  when  she  laughed  a  moment  before,  and  seeing 
that  Evelyn  was  about  to  rise,  she  said  casually: 

"Mr.  Saxton  doesn't  share  the  bishop's  gentle  charity 
toward  Wheaton."  She  watched  Evelyn  as  she  applied 
the  test.  The  girl  did  not  raise  her  eyes  at  once.  She 
bent  over  the  parasol  meditatively,  still  tapping  the 
handle  with  the  card-case. 


"IT  IS  CRUEL"  393 

"What  does  Mr.  Saxton  say?"  Evelyn  asked,  drop 
ping  the  trinket  into  her  lap  and  looking  at  her  friend 
vaguely,  as  people  do  who  ask  questions  out  of  courtesy 
rather  than  from  honest  curiosity. 

"Mr.  Saxton  says  that  Wheaton's  a  scoundrel — a 
damned  scoundrel,  to  be  literal.  He  told  the  general 
so,  here,  a  few  nights  ago.  He'  seemed  very  bitter. 
You  know  what  close  friends  he  and  Warry  were!" 

"Yes;  it  was  an  ideal  kind  of  friendship.  They 
were  devoted  to  each  other,"  said  Evelyn  very  earnestly ; 
there  was  a  little  cry  in  her  voice  as  she  spoke.  It  was 
as  though  happiness,  struggling  against  sorrow,  had 
almost  gained  the  mastery. 

"It's  fine  to  see  that  in  men.  I  sometimes  think 
that  friendships  among  them  have  a  quality  that  ours 
lack.  I  think  Mr.  Saxton  is  very  lonely.  I  wasn't 
here  when  he  called,  but  the  general  saw  him.  You 
know  the  general  likes  him  particularly." 

"Yes." 

"You  and  he  both  knew  and  appreciated  Warry." 

Evelyn  had  grasped  her  parasol,  and  she  took  up  the 
card-case  again.  Mrs.  Whipple  was  half  ashamed  of 
herself;  but  she  was  also  convinced.  She  took  another 
step. 

"Of  course  you  see  him;  he  must  be  reaching  out 
to  all  Warry's  friends  in  his  loneliness." 

Mrs.  Whipple^s  powers  of  analysis  were  keen,  but 
there  were  times  when  they  failed  her.  She  did  not 
know  that  her  question  hurt  Evelyn  Porter;  and  she 
did  not  know  that  Evelyn  had  seen  John  Saxton  but 
once  since  the  day  they  all  stood  by  Warry's  grave. 


394  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

Mrs.  Whipple  disapproved  of  herself  as  she  followed 
Evelyn  to  the  door.  She  had  no  business  to  pry  into 
the  girl's  secrets  in  this  way;  the  sweep  of  the  foulard 
touched  her,  and  she  sought  to  placate  her  conscience 
by  burying  her  new-found  knowledge  under  less  guilty 
information. 

Evelyn  spoke  of  the  place  which  her  father  had 
bought  at  Orchard  Lane,  on  the  North  Shore,  and  told 
Mrs.  Whipple  that  she  and  the  general  were  expected  to 
spend  a  month  there. 

"You  will  be  away  all  summer,,  I  suppose.  It's  fino 
that  your  father  has  taken  the  course  he  has.  He 
might  have  felt  that  he  must  stay  at  home  closer  than 
ever,  to  look  after  his  interests." 

"It's  more  for  Grant  than  for  himself,"  said  Evelyn ; 
"but  he  realizes  too  that  he  must  take  care  of  himself." 

"That's  a  good  deal  gained  for  a  Western  business 
man.  It's  been  a  terrible  year  for  you,  dear, — your 
father's  illness  and  these  other  things.  You  need 
rest." 

She  took  the  girl's  cheeks  in  her  hands  and  kissed 
her,  and  Evelyn  went  out  into  the  spring  afternoon 
and  walked  homeward  over  the  sloping  streets. 

Mrs.  Whipple  pondered  long  after  Evelyn  left. 
Evelyn  was  not  happy.  She  was  not  mourning  a  dead 
lover,  nor  one  whose  life  was  eclipsed  in  shame;  but 
another  man  disturbed  her  peace,  and  Mrs.  Whipple 
wondered  why.  She  was  still  pondering  when  the 
general  came  in.  He  had  been  out  to  take  the  air,  and 
after  he  had  brought  his  syphon  from  the  ice-box  he  was 
ready  to  talk. 

"Evelyn  has  been  here,"  said  Mrs.  Whipple.     "She 


"IT  IS  CRUEL"  395 

asked  us  to  come  to  them  for  a  visit.  You  know  Mr. 
Porter  has  bought  a  place  on  the  North  Shore." 

"It  sounds  like  a  miracle.  Jim  Wheaton  didn't  live 
in  vain  if  he's  responsible  for  that." 

They  debated  their  invitation,,  which  Mrs.  Whipple 
had  already  accepted,  she  explained,  from  a  sense  of 
duty  to  Evelyn.  The  general  said  he  supposed  he 
would  have  to  go,  with  a  show  of  reluctance  that  was 
wholly  insincere  and  to  which  Mrs.  Whipple  gave  no 
heed.  They  were  asked  for  July.  They  discussed  the 
old  friends  whom  they  would  probably  see  while  they 
were  East,  until  the  summer  loomed  pleasant  before 
them,  and  then  the  talk  came  back  to  Evelyn. 

"The  child  doesn't  look  well,"  said  Mrs.  Whipple. 

"I  shouldn't  think  she  would,  with  all  the  row  and 
rumpus  they've  been  having  in  their  family.  Abduc 
tions  and  murders  and  abscondings  at  one's  door  are 
not  conducive  to  light-heartedness." 

"She's  annoyed  by  all  this  gossip  about  her  and 
Warry.  She  doesn't  know  that  Wheaton  is  supposed 
to  have  taken  more  than  a  friendly  interest  in  her." 

"Well,  I  wouldn't  tell  her  that,  if  I  were  you — if 
Wheaton  didn't." 

"Of  course  he  didn't !" 

"Well,  he  didn't  then."  The  syphon  hissed  into  the 
glass. 

"Evelyn  and  Warry  weren't  engaged,"  said  Mrs. 
Whipple.  The  general  held  up  the  glass  and  wartched 
the  gas  bubbling  to  the  top. 

"It's  just  as  well  that  way,"  he  said.  "It  saves  her 
a  lot  of  heartache." 

"That's  what  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Whipple  promptly. 


396  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

In  such  conversations  as  this  she  usually  combated  the 
general's  opinions.  An  exception  to  the  rule  was  so  note 
worthy  that  he  began  to  pay  serious  attention. 

"They  weren't,  but  they  might  have  been.  Is  that 
it?" 

"No.  Anything  might  have  been.  There's  no  use 
speculating  about  what  can't  be  now." 

"I  suppose  that's  true.     Well?" 

"Something  is  troubling  Evelyn,  and  I'll  tell  you 
what  I  think  it  is.  I  think  it  was  Saxton  all  along." 

"I  always  told  you  he  was  a  good  fellow.  He's  really 
shown  me  some  attentions,  and  that's  more  than  most 
of  the  young  men  have  done,  except  Warry.  Warry 
was  nice  to  everybody.  But  Saxton's  alive  and  hearty 
and  hasn't  skipped  for  parts  unknown.  Why  is  Evelyn 
mourning?"  He  shook  the  glass  until  the  ice  tinkled 
pleasantly. 

"I  don't  know.  Maybe — maybe  he  doesn't  under 
stand!" 

"He  isn't  stupid,"  said  the  general,  thoughtfully. 

"Of  course  he  isn't." 

"It  may  be  that  he  isn't  interested — that  she  doesn't 
appeal  to  him.  Such  a  thing  is  conceivable." 

"No,  it  isn't !     Of  course  it  isn't !" 

The  general  laughed  at  her  scornful  rejection  of  the 
idea. 

"You  tell  me,  then." 

"What  I  think  is,  that  there  is  some  reason — per 
haps  some  point  of  honor  with  him — that  keeps  him 
away  from  her.  He  was  Warry's  friend.  He  was 
nearer  Warry  in  his  last  years  than  any  one.  Don't 


"IT  IS  CRUEL"  397 

you  think  that  something  of  that  sort  may  be  the 
matter  ?" 

The  general  was  greatly  amused,  and  he  laughed  so 
that  Mrs.  Whipple's  own  dignity  was  shaken. 

"Amelia/'  he  said,  "your  analytical  powers  are  too 
sharp  for  this  world.  You're  shaving  it  down  pretty 
fine,  it  seems  to  me.  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  what  you 
base  that  on." 

"I'm  not  basing  it;  but  it  seems  so  natural  that 
that  should  be  the  way." 

The  syphon  gurgled  harshly  and  sputtered,  and  the 
general  put  it  down  sadly. 

"Xow  that  you've  solved  the  riddle  in  your  own 
mind,  how  are  you  going  to  proceed  ?  You'd  better  not 
try  army  tactics  on  a  civilian  job.  Saxton  isn't  a  sec 
ond  lieutenant,  to  be  regulated  by  the  commandant's 
wife." 

"He's  a  dear!"  declared  Mrs.  Whipple  irrelevantly. 
"If  Evelyn  Porter  wants  him,  she's  going  to  have  him." 

"Oh,  Lord!"  The  general  took  up  his  syphon  to 
carry  it  back  to  the  case  in  the  pantry.  "He's  'a  dear,' 
is  he?  Amelia,  John  Saxton  weighs  at  least  one  hun 
dred  and  eighty  pounds.  I  don't  believe  I'd  call  him 
'a  dear/  I'd  reserve  that  for  slim,  elderly  persons  like 
me,  or  young  girls  just  out  of  school."  He  stood 
swinging  the  syphon  at  arm's  length.  "Now,  if  my 
advice  were  worth  anything,  I'd  tell  you  to  let  these 
young  people  alone.  If  you've  gue&sed  the  true  in 
wardness  of  this  matter — as  you  probably  haven't — 
they'll  come  out  all  right." 

"Of  course  they'll  come  out  all  right,"  she  answered, 
dreamily.  The  swinging  door  in  the  dining-room  fanned 


398  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

upon  her  answer  as  the  general  strode  through  into  the 
pantry. 

For  several  weeks  following  Mrs.  Whipple  continued 
to  think  of  Evelyn  and  her  affairs.  Evelyn  was  not 
an  object  of  pity,  and  yet  there  was  a  certain  pathos 
about  her.  Her  position  in  the  town  as  the  daughter 
of  its  wealthiest  citizen  isolated  her,  it  seemed  to  Mrs. 
Whipple.  A  girl  would  be  less  than  human  if  the 
experiences  to  which  Evelyn  had  been  subjected  did  not 
make  a  profound  impression  upon  her.  Mrs.  Whipple 
had  seen  a  good  deal  of  trouble  in  her  day.  She  felt 
that  Evelyn  had  learned  too  much  of  life  in  one  lesson ; 
if  she  could  ease  the  future  for  her,  she  wished  to 
do  it.  With  such  hopes  as  these  she  occupied  herself 
as  spring  waxed  old  and  summer  held  the  land. 


CHAPTER  XL 

SHIFTED   BURDENS 

Porter  insisted  that  Margrave  should  not  have  the 
Traction  Company  at  any  price,  though  the  general 
manager  of  the  Transcontinental  was  persistent  in  his 
offers.  As  Margrave  did  not  care  to  deal  with  Porter, 
who  was  not,  he  complained,  "an  easy  trader,"  he  ne 
gotiated  with  Fenton  and  Saxton.  After  several  weeks 
of  ineffectual  effort  he  concluded  that  Fenton  and  Sax- 
ton  were  almost  as  difficult.  He  called  Saxton  a 
"stubborn  brute"  to  Saxton' s  face;  but  offered  to  con 
tinue  him  in  a  responsible  position  with  the  company 
if  he  would  help  him  with  the  purchase.  He  still 
wanted  to  control  the  company  for  political  reasons, 
but  there  was  also  the  fact  of  his  having  invested  the 
money  of  several  of  his  friends  in  the  Transcontinental 
directorate,  prior  to  the  last  annual  meeting. 

These  gentlemen  had  begun  to  inquire  in  a  respectful 
way  when  Margrave  was  going  to  effect  the  coup  which, 
he  had  been  assuring  them,  he  had  planned.  They  had, 
they  were  aware,  no  rights  as  against  the  bondholders ; 
and  as  Margrave  understood  this  perfectly  well,  he 
was  very  anxious  to  buy  in  the  property  at  receiver's 
sale  for  an  amount  that  would  satisfy  Porter  and  his 
allies,  and  give  him  a  chance  to  "square  himself,"  as  he 

399 


400  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

put  it.  This  required  additional  money,  but  he  was 
able  to  command  it  from  his  "people/'  for  the  re 
ceiver  had  demonstrated  that  the  property  could  be 
made  to  pay.  While  these  negotiations  were  pending, 
Saxton  and  Fenton  were  able  to  satisfy  their  curiosity 
as  to  the  relations  which  had  existed  between  Wheaton 
and  Margrave.  Margrave  had  no  shame  in  confessing 
just  what  had  passed  between  them;  he  viewed  it  all 
as  a  joke,  and  explained,  without  compunction,  exactly 
the  manner  in  which  he  had  come  by  the  shares  which 
had  belonged  to  Evelyn  Porter  and  James  Wheaton. 

When  Saxton  came  back  from  Colorado,  Porter  was 
ill  again,  and  Fenton  was  seriously  disposed  to  accept 
a  price  which  Margrave's  syndicate  had  offered.  Mar 
grave's  position  had  grown  uncomfortable;  he  had  to 
get  himself  and  ahis  people"  out  of  a  scrape  at  any 
cost.  His  plight  pleased  Fenton,  who  tried  to  make 
Porter  see  the  irony  of  it;  and  this  view  of  it,  as  much 
as  the  high  offer,  finally  prevailed  upon  him.  He  saw 
at  last  the  futility  of  securing  and  managing  the  prop 
erty  for  himself;  his  health  had  become  a  matter  of 
concern,  and  Fenton  insisted  that  a  street  railway  com 
pany  would  prove  no  easier  to  manage  than  a  bank. 

Porter  was,  as  John  had  said,  "a  peculiar  brick,"  and 
after  the  final  orders  of  the  court  had  been  made,  and 
Saxton's  fees  allowed,  Porter  sent  him  a  check  for  five 
thousand  dollars,  without  comment.  Fenton  made  him 
keep  it ;  Porter  had  done  well  in  Traction  and  he  owed 
much  to  John;  but  John  protested  that  he  preferred 
being  thanked  to  being  tipped;  but  the  lawyer  per 
suaded  him  at  last  that  the  idiosyncrasies  of  the  rich 
ought  to  be  respected. 


SHIFTED  BURDENS  401 

Porter  felt  his  burdens  slipping  from  him  with  un 
expected  satisfaction.  He  grew  jaunty  in  his  old  way 
as  he  chid  his  contemporaries  and  friends  for  holding 
on;  as  for  himself.,  he  told  them,  he  intended  "to  die 
rested,"  and  he  adjusted  his  affairs  so  that  they  would 
give  him  little  trouble  in  the  future.  The  cottage 
which  he  had  bought  on  the  North  Shore  was  a  place 
they  had  all  admired  the  previous  summer.  Porter  had 
liked  it  because  there  was  enough  ground  to  afford  the 
lawn  and  flower  beds  which  he  cultivated  with  so  much 
satisfaction  at  home.  The  place  was  called  "Red  Ga 
bles/'  and  Porter  had  bought  it  with  its  furniture,  so 
that  there  was  little  to  do  in  taking  possession  but  to 
move  in.  The  Whipples  were  their  first  guests,  going 
to  them  in  mid-July,  when  they  were  fully  installed. 

The  elder  Bostonians  whom  Porter  had  met  the 
previous  summer  promptly  renewed  their  acquaintance 
with  him.  He  had  attained,  in  their  eyes,  a  new 
dignity  in  becoming  a  cottager.  The  previous  owner 
of  "Red  Gables"  had  lately  failed  in  business  and 
they  found  in  the  advent  of  the  Porters  a  sign  of  the 
replenishing  of  the  East  from  the  West,  which  inter 
ested  them  philosophically.  Porter  lacked  their  own 
repose,  but  they  liked  to  hear  him  talk.  He  was  amus 
ing  and  interesting,  and  they  had  already  found  his 
prophecies  concerning  the  markets  trustworthy.  The 
ladies  of  their  families  heard  with  horror  his  views  on 
the  Indian  question,  which  were  not  romantic,  nor 
touched  with  the  spirit  of  Boston  philanthropy;  but 
his  daughter  was  lovely,  they  said,  and  her  accent  was 
wholly  inoffensive. 


402  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

So  the  Porters  were  well  received,  and  Evelyn  was 
glad  to  find  her  father  accepting  his  new  leisure  so 
complacently.  She  and  Mrs.  Whipple  agreed  that  he 
and  the  general  were  as  handsome  and  interesting  as 
any  of  the  elderly  Bostonians  among  their  neighbors; 
and  they  undoubtedly  were  so. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

RETROSPECTIVE   VANITY 

John  Saxton  sat  in  the  office  of  the  Traction  Com 
pany  on  a  hot  night  in  July.  Fenton  had  just  left 
him.  The  transfer  to  the  Margrave  syndicate  had  been 
effected  and  John  would  no  more  sign  himself  "John 
Saxton,  Receiver."  His  work  in  Clarkson  was  at  an 
end,  The  Neponset  Trust  Company  had  called  him  to 
Boston  for  a,  conference,  which  meant,  he  knew,  a 
termination  of  his  service  with  them.  He  had  lately] 
sold  the  Poindexter  ranch,  and  so  little  property  re 
mained  on  the  Neponset's  books  that  it  could  be  cared 
for  from  the  home  office.  He  had  not  opened  the  after 
noon  mail.  He  picked  up  a  letter  from  the  top  of  the 
pile  and  read: 


FRANCISCO,  July  10,  189  —  . 
My  Dear  Sir: 

I  hesitate  about  writing  you,  but  there  are  some 
things  which  I  should  like  you  to  understand  before  I 
go  away.  I  had  fully  expected  to  remain  with  you  and 
Bishop  Delafield  and  to  return  to  Clarkson  that  last 
morning  at  Poindexter's.  I  cannot  defend  myself 
for  having  run  away;  it  must  have  seemed  a  strange 
thing  to  you  that  I  did  so.  I  had  fully  intended  acting 
on  the  bishop's  advice,  which  I  knew  then,  and  know 
now,  was  good.  But  when  the  west-bound  train  came, 
my  courage  left  me;  I  could  not  go  back  and  face  the 
people  I  had  known,  after  what  had  happened.  I  told 

403 


404  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

you  the  truth  there  in  the  ranch  house  that  night; 
every  word  of  it  was  true.  Maybe  I  did  not  make  it 
clear  enough  how  weak  I  am.  I  do  not  know  why  God 
made  me  so;  I  know  that  I  tried  to  fight  it;  but  I 
was  vain  and  foolish.  Things  came  too  easy  for  me,  I 
guess;  at  any  rate  I  was  never  worthy  of  the  good 
fortune  that  befell  me.  It  seemed  to  me  that  for  two 
years  everything  I  did  was  a  mistake.  I  suppose  if  I 
had  been  a  real  criminal,  and  not  merely  a  coward,  I 
should  not  have  entangled  myself  as  I  did  and  brought 
calamity  upon  other  people. 

When  I  reached  here,  I  found  employment  with  a 
shipping  house.  I  have  told  my  story  to  one  of  the 
firm,  who  has  been  kind  to  me.  He  seems  to  under 
stand  my  case,  and  is  giving  me  a  good  chance  to  begin 
over  again.  I  suppose  the  worst  possible  things  have 
been  said  about  me,  and  I  do  not  care,  except  that  I 
hope  the  people  in  Clarkson  will  not  think  I  was  guilty 
of  any  wrong-doing  at  the  bank.  I  read  in  the  news 
papers  that  I  had  stolen  the  bank's  money,  and  I  hope 
that  was  corrected.  The  books  must  have  proved  what 
I  say.  I  understand  now  that  what  I  did  was  worse 
than  stealing,  but  I  should  like  you  and  Mr.  Porter 
to  know  that  I  not  only  did  not  take  other  people's 
money,  but  that  in  my  foolish  relations  with  Margrave 
I  did  not  receive  a  cent  for  the  shares  of  stock  which 
he  took  from  me — neither  for  my  own  nor  for  those  of 
Miss  Porter.  I  don't  blame  Margrave;  if  I  had  not 
been  a  coward  he  could  not  have  played  with  me  as  he 
did. 

The  company  is  sending  me  to  one  of  its  South 
American  houses.  I  go  by  steamer  to-morrow,  and  you 
will  not  hear  from  me  again.  I  should  like  you  to 
know  that  I  have  neither  seen  nor  heard  anything  of 
my  brother  since  that  night.  With  best  wishes  for 
your  own  happiness  and  prosperity, 

Yours  sincerely, 

JAMES  WHEATON. 
JOHN  SAXTON,  ESQ. 


RETROSPECTIVE  VANITY  405 

On  his  way  home  to  the  club  Saxton  stopped  at 
Bishop  Delafield's  rooms,  and  found  the  bishop,  as 
usual,  preparing  for  flight.  Time  did  not  change 
Bishop  Delafield.  He  was  one  of  those  men  who  reach 
sixty,  and  never,  apparently,  pass  it.  He  and  Saxton 
were  fast  friends  now.  The  bishop  missed  Warry  out 
of  his  life;  Warry  was  always  so  accessible  and  so 
cheering.  John  Saxton  was  not  so  accessible  and  he 
had  not  Warry's  lightness,  but  the  Bishop  of  Clarkson 
liked  John  Saxton! 

The  bishop  sat  with  his  inevitable  hand-baggage  by 
his  side  and  read  Wheaton's  letter  through. 

"How  ignorant  we  are!"  he  said,  folding  it.  "I 
sometimes  think  that  we  who  try  to  minister  to  the 
needs  of  the  poor  in  spirit  do  not  even  know  the  rudi 
ments  of  our  trade.  We  are  pretty  helpless  with  men 
like  Wheaton.  They  are  apparently  strong;  they  yield 
to  no  temptations,  so  far  as  any  man  knows;  they 
are  exemplary  characters.  I  suppose  that  they  are 
living  little  tragedies  all  the  time.  The  moral  coward 
is  more  to  be  pitied  than  the  open  criminal.  You 
know  where  to  find  the  criminal ;  but  the  moral  coward 
is  an  unknown  quantity.  Life  is  a  strange  business, 
John,  and  the  older  I  get  the  less  I  think  I  know  of 
it."  He  sighed  and  handed  back  the  letter. 

"But  he's  doing  better  than  we  might  have  expected 
him  to,"  said  Saxton.  "A  man's  entitled  to  happiness 
if  he  can  find  it.  He  undoubtedly  chose  the  easier 
part  in  running  away.  I  can't  imagine  him  coming 
back  here  to  face  the  community  after  all  that  had 
happened." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  can  either.     Preaching  is  easier 


406  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

than  practising,  aiid  I'm  not  sure  that  I  gave  him  the 
best  advice  at  the  ranch  house  that  morning." 

""Well,  it  was  the  only  thing  to  do,"  Saxton  answered. 
"I  suppose  neither  you  nor  I  was  sure  he  told  the  truth ; 
it  was  a  situation  that  was  calculated  to  make  one 
skeptical.  It  isn't  clear  from  his  letter  that  the  whole 
thing  has  impressed  him  in  any  great  way.  He's 
anxious  to  have  us  think  well  of  him — a  kind  of  re 
trospective  vanity." 

"But  his  punishment  is  great.  It's  not  for  us  to 
pass  on  its  adequacy.  I  must  be  going,  John/'  and 
Saxton  gathered  up  the  battered  cases  and  went  out  to 
the  car  with  him. 

Bishop  Delafield  always  brought  Warry  back  vividly 
to  John,  and  as  they  waited  on  the  corner  he  remem 
bered  his  first  meeting  with  the  bishop,  in  Warry's 
rooms  at  The  Bachelors'.  And  that  was  very  long  ago ! 


CHAPTER  XLII 

AT  THE  PARTING  OF  THE   WAYS 

The  days  that  followed  brought  uncertainty  and 
doubt  to  the  heart  and  mind  of  John  Saxton.  He  had 
seen  Evelyn  several  times  before  she  left  home,  on  oc 
casions  when  he  went  to  the  house  with  Fenton  for  con 
ferences  with  her  father.  He  had  intended  saying  good 
by  to  her,  but  the  Porters  went  hurriedly  at  last  and 
he  was  not  sorry;  it  was  easier  that  way.  But  Mrs. 
Whipple,  who  was  exercising  a  motherly  supervision 
over  John,  had  exacted  a  promise  from  him  to  come  to 
Orchard  Lane  during  the  time  that  she  and  the  general 
were  to  be  with  the  Porters  in  their  new  cottage. 
When  he  went  East,  Saxton  settled  down  at  his  club 
in  Boston,  and  pretended  that  it  was  good  to  be  at 
home  again;  but  he  went  about  with  homesickness 
gnawing  his  heart.  He  had  reason  to  be  happy  and 
satisfied  with  himself.  He  had  practically  concluded 
the  difficult  work  which  he  had  been  sent  to  Clarkson 
to  do;  he  had  realized  more  money  from  their  assets 
than  the  officers  of  the  trust  company  had  expected; 
and  they  held  out  to  him  the  promise  of  employment 
in  their  Boston  office  as  a  reward.  So  he  walked  the 
familiar  streets  planning  his  future  anew.  He  had 
succeeded  in  something  at  last,  and  he  would  stay 

407 


408  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

in  Boston,  having,  he  told  himself,  earned  the  right 
to  live  there.  The  assistant  secretaryship  of  the 
trust  company,  which  had  been  mentioned  to  him, 
would  be  a  position  of  dignity  and  promise.  He  had 
never  hoped  to  do  so  well.  Moreover,  it  would  be 
pleasant  to  be  near  his  sister,  who  lived  at  Worcester. 
There  were  only  the  two  of  them,  and  they  ought  to 
live  near  together. 

It  is,  however,  an  unpleasant  habit  of  the  fates  never 
to  suffer  us  to  debate  simple  problems  long;  they  must 
throw  in  new  elements  to  puzzle  us.  While  he  deferred 
going  to  Orchard  Lane  a  new  perplexity  confronted 
him.  One  of  Margrave's  "people"  came  from  New 
York  as  the  representative  of  the  syndicate  that  had 
purchased  the  Clarkson  Traction  Company,  and  sought 
an  interview.  John  had  met  this  gentleman  at  the 
time  the  sale  was  closed;  he  was  a  person  of  conse 
quence  in  the  financial  world,  who  came  quickly  to  the 
point  of  his  errand.  He  offered  John  the  position  of 
general  manager  of  the  company. 

Margrave,  it  appeared,  was  not  to  have  full  swing 
after  all.  He  was  to  be  president,  but  John's  visitor 
intimated  broadly  that  file  position  was  to  be  largely 
honorary.  They  had  looked  into  the  matter  thor 
oughly  in  New  York  and  were  anxious  that  the  policy 
and  methods  of  the  receivership  should  continue.  Mr. 
Margrave  was  an  invaluable  man,  said  the  New  Yorker, 
but  his  duties  with  the  railroad  company  had  so  multi 
plied  that  he  would  be  unable  to  give  the  necessary 
care  to  the  street  car  management.  John  should  have 
absolute  authority.  The  syndicate  would  be  greatly 
disappointed  if  he  declined.  A  salary  was  named  which 


AT  THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS      409 

was  larger  than  John  had  ever  dreamed  of  receiving  in 
any  occupation;  and  they  wished  an  answer  within  a 
few  days.  John  Saxton  was  human,  and  it  was  not 
easy  to  decline  a  salary  of  six  thousand  dollars  for  ser 
vices  which  he  knew  he  could  perform,,  offered  to  him 
by  a  gentleman  whom  people  were  not  in  the  habit  of 
refusing.  He  remained  indoors  at  the  club  all  day, 
smoking  many  pipes  in  a  fruitless  effort  to  reconcile 
his  resolves  with  his  new  problems. 

The  next  day  he  thought  he  saw  it  all  more  clearly. 
Perhaps,  he  reflected,  life  in  Boston  would  become  en 
durable;  there  was  his  sister  to  consider,  and  he  owed 
something  to  her;  she  was  all  he  had.  He  went  out 
and  walked  aimlessly  through  the  hot  streets,  little 
heeding  what  he  did.  He  realized  presently  that  he 
had  gone  into  a  railway  office  and  asked  for  a  suburban 
time  table.  He  carried  this  back  to  the  club,  where  the 
atmosphere  of  his  cool,  quiet  room  soothed  him;  and 
he  lay  down  on  a  couch  and  studied  the  list  of  Orchard 
Lane  trains.  He  found  that  he  could  run  out  almost 
any  hour  of  the  day.  He  slept  and  woke  refreshed, 
with  the  time  table  still  grasped  in  his  hand.  He  had 
been  very  foolish,  he  concluded;  it  would  be  a  simple 
matter  to  go  out  to  Orchard  Lane  to  call  on  the  Porters 
and  Whipples,  and  he  picked  out  one  of  the  afternoon 
trains  and  marked  it  on  the  folder  with  a  lead  pencil. 
He  spent  the  evening  writing  letters, — in  particular  a 
letter  to  the  representative  of  the  Clarkson  Traction  syn 
dicate,  declining  the  general  managership;  and  the 
next  afternoon  when  he  went  up  to  Orchard  Lane  he 
carried  the  letter  sealed  and  stamped  in  his  pocket,  as 
a  kind  of  talisman  that  would  assure  his  safety. 


410  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

It  suited  his  righteous  mood  that  he  should  find  no 
one  at  home  at  Red  Gables  but  Mr.  Porter,  who  played 
golf  all  the  morning  and  slept  and  experimented  at  land 
scape  gardening  all  the  afternoon.  He  welcomed  John 
with  unwonted  cordiality,  in  the  inexplicable  way  people 
have  of  being  friendlier  with  a  fellow  townsman  away 
from  their  common  habitat  than  at  home.  He  led  the 
way  to  a  cool  and  cozy  corner  of  the  broad  veranda, 
where  Japanese  screens  made  a  pleasant  nook.  The 
afternoon  sea  shimmered  beyond  the  trees;  the  lawn 
was  tended  with  urban  care.  Porter  was  very  proud 
of  the  place  and  listened  with  approval  to  John's  praise 
of  it. 

"Well,  sir;  it's  cooler  than   Clarkson." 

"A  trifle,  yes;  the  efforts  of  the  Clarkson  papers  to 
make  a  summer  resort  of  the  town  were  never  very  suc 
cessful."  John's  eyes  rested  on  a  wicker  table  where 
there  were  books  and  a  little  sewing  basket,  which  it 
wrung  his  heart  to  see. 

"Folks  are  all  off  somewhere.  The  Whipples  are  in 
town.  Grant's  gone  sailing  and  Evelyn's  out  visiting 
or  attending  a  push  of  some  kind  up  the  shore.  But 
I  guess  I  know  when  I've  got  a  good  thing.  You  don't 
catch  me  gadding  into  town  when  I've  got  a  cool  place 
to  sit."  He  stretched  his  short  legs  comfortably.  "I 
hope  you'll  smoke  a  cigar  if  you've  got  one.  They've 
cut  mine  off,  and  Evelyn  won't  let  me  keep  any  around ; 
thinks  they'd  be  too  much  of  a  temptation." 

"It's  just  as  well  to  keep  away  from  temptation," 
said  John,  not  thinking  of  cigars.  The  sight  of  Porter 
and  the  mention  of  Clarkson  brought  his  homesick-* 
ness  to  an  acute  stage. 


AT  THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS      411 

"I  suppose  our  old  friend  Margrave's  enjoying  him 
self  running  the  Traction  Company  by  this  time,"  con 
tinued  Porter.  "Well,  sir;  I  guess  he  can  have  it.  I 
thought  for  a  while  that  I  wanted  it  myself,  but  Fenton 
talked  me  out  of  it.  It  will  pay,  if  they  run  it  right; 
yes,  sir;  it's  a  good  thing.  But  the  trouble  with  Mar 
grave  is  that  he  won't  play  square.  It  ain't  in  him. 
He's  so  crooked  that  they'll  never  find  a  coffin  for  him, 
— no,  sir;  not  in  stock;  I  guess  it'll  tax  the  manufac 
turer  to  his  full  capacity  to  fit  Tim.  But  he  seems  to 
have  those  Transcontinental  people  on  the  string,  and 
they're  smart  fellows,  too.  I  reckon  Margrave's  a  handy 
man  for  them.  They  used  to  say  I  was  crooked," — 
he  twirled  his  straw  hat,  and  changed  the  position  of 
his  legs;  "but  I  guess  that  for  pure  sinuosity  I  was 
never  in  Tim  Margrave's  class.  Well,  Tim's  a  good 
enough  fellow  when  all's  said  and  done !" 

"They  say  of  him  that  he  always  stands  by  his 
friends,"  said  John.  "And  that's  a  good  deal." 

"That's  right.     It's  a  whole  lot,"  Porter  assented. 

There  were  some  details  connected  with  the  final 
transfer  of  the  Traction  Company  to  Margrave's  syn 
dicate  which  Porter  had  not  fully  understood,  or  which 
Fenton  had  purposely  kept  from  him;  and  he  pressed 
John  for  new  light  on  these  matters.  John  answered 
or  parried  as  he  thought  wisest.  He  was  surprised  to 
find  how  completely  Porter  had  freed  himself  from 
business;  the  sometime  banker  talked  of  Clarkson 
affairs  with  an  accentuation  of  the  past  tense,  as  if  to 
wave  them  all  away  as  far  as  possible.  Events  in  them 
selves  did  not  interest  him  particularly;  but  he  took  a 
mildly  patronizing  tone  in  philosophizing  about  them. 


THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

He  drew  from  John  the  fact  that  most  of  the  property 
of  the  Neponset  Trust  Company  in  the  Trans-Missouri 
region  had  been  sold. 

"That's  good.  I  guess  you've  done  pretty  well  for 
them,  Saxton.  But  I  hope  we  shan't  lose  you  from 
Clarkson.  We  need  young  men  out  there;  and  I  guess 
we've  got  as  good  a  town  as  there  is  anywhere  west 
of  Chicago." 

"I'm  sure  of  that/'  said  John;  and  he  rose  to  go. 

"I'm  sorry  the  rest  of  them  are  not  here,"  said  Mr. 
Porter.  "Evelyn  ought  to  have  been  home  before  this. 
But  you  must  come  again.  Come  out  and  try  the  golf 
course  and  have  dinner  with  us  any  time.  I'm  playing 
a  little  myself  this  summer.  Evelyn  and  Grant  can 
outdrive  me  all  right;  but  they're  not  in  it  with  me  on 
putting.  I'm  one  of  the  warmest  putters  on  the  links. 
You  can  find  the  shore  path  this  way."  He  led  John 
to  an  exit  a>t  the  rear  of  the  house,  where  there  was  an 
old  apple  orchard.  "After  you  pass  the  lighthouse  you 
come  to  a  road  that  leads  right  into  the  village." 

John  left  his  greetings  for  the  rest  of  the  house 
hold  and  turned  away.  It  had  all  happened  much  more 
easily  than  he  had  expected.  He  had  burned  all  his 
bridges  behind  him  now;  he  would  mail  his  letter  in 
the  village;  not  that  it  would  be  delivered  any  sooner, 
but  because  it  fell  in  with  his  spirit  of  renunciation 
that  it  should  go  hence  with  the  Orchard  Lane  post 
mark. 

He  took  it  from  his  pocket  and  carried  it  in  his 
hand.  He  found  the  walk  very  pleasant,  with  the  rough 
shore  of  the  bay  on  one  hand  and  pretty  villas  on  the 
other.  Orchard  Lane  was  not  wholly  a  fiction  of 


AT  THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS   413 

nomenclature.  There  were  veritable  lanes  that  sur 
vived  the  coming  of  fashion  and  wealth,  and  spoke  of 
simpler  times  on  these  northern  shores.  The  path  was 
not  altogether  straight,  but  described  a  tortuous  line 
past  the  lighthouse  which  crouched  on  a  point  of  the 
bay.  There  was  a  train  at  six  o'clock;  it  was  now  five 
and  he  loitered  along,  stopping  often  to  look  out  upon 
the  sea.  A  group  of  people  was  gathered  about  a  tea 
table  on  the  sloping  lawn  in  front  of  one  of  the  houses. 
The  colors  of  the  women's  dresses  were  bright  against 
the  dark  green.  It  was  a  gay  company ;  their  laughter 
floated  out  to  him  mockingly.  He  wondered  whether 
Evelyn  was  there,  as  he  passed  on,  beating  the  rocky 
path  with  his  stick. 

Evelyn  was  not  there;  but  her  destination  was  that 
particular  lawn  and  its  tea  table.  Turning  a  fresh 
bend  in  the  path  he  came  upon  her.  He  had  had  no 
thought  of  seeing  her;  yet  she  was  coming  down  the 
path  toward  him,  her  picture  hat  framed  in  the  dome  of 
a  blue  parasol.  He  had  renounced  her  for  all  time,  and 
he  should  greet  her  guardedly ;  but  the  blood  was  sing 
ing  in  his  temples  and  throbbing  in  his  finger  tips  at 
the  sight  of  her. 

"This  is  too  bad!"  she  exclaimed,  as  they  met.  "I 
hope  you  can  come  back  to  the  house." 

She  walked  straight  up  to  him  and  gave  him  her 
hand  in  her  quick,  frank  way. 

"I'm  sorry,  but  I  must  go  in  to  town  on  this  next 
train,"  he  answered.  He  turned  in  the  path  and  walked 
along  beside  her. 

"This  happened  to  be  one  of  our  scattering  days,  for 
all  except  father." 


414  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

"We  had  a  nice  talk,,  he  and  I.  Your  place  is  charm 
ing." 

They  descended  the  shore  path  until  they  came  to 
the  villa  where  the  tea  drinkers  were  assembled. 

"Don't  let  me  detain  you.  I'm  sure  you  were  going 
to  join  these  lotus  eaters." 

"I  don't  believe  they  need  me/'  she  answered, 
evasively.  "They  seem  pretty  busy.  But  if  you're 
hungry — or  thirsty,  I  can  get  something  for  you  there." 
They  passed  the  gate,  walking  slowly  along.  He  knew 
that  he  ought  to  urge  her  to  stop,  and  that  he  must 
hurry  on  to  catch  his  train;  but  it  was  too  sweet  to  be 
near  her;  this  was  the  last  time  and  it  was  his  own ! 

"I  seem  to  remember  your  tea  drinking  ways/'  she 
said.  "You  use  only  sugar  and  the  hot  water/' 

"But  that  was  in  the  winter,"  he  responded.  He 
wished  she  had  not  referred  to  that  afternoon,  when 
he  had  been  weak,  just  as  he  was  proving  weak  now. 
A  yacht  was  steaming  slowly  into  the  bay.  It  was  a 
pretty,  white  plaything  and  they  paused  and  commended 
its  good  qualities  with  the  easy  certainty  of  super 
ficial  knowledge.  They  walked  on,  passing  the  light 
house,  and  slowly  nearing  the  entrance  to  Eed  Gables. 
She  led  the  talk  easily  and  her  light-heartedness  added 
to  his  depression;  every  step  he  took  was  an  error;  but 
he  would  leave  her  at  the  gate  when  they  came  to  it 
and  go  on  to  the  village  and  his  train.  She  paused 
abruptly  and  looked  across  a  meadow  which  lay  be 
tween  them  and  the  Eed  Gables  orchard. 

"I  really  believe  it's  a  cow;  yes,  it  is  a-  cow,"  she  de 
clared,  with  quiet  conviction. 


AT  THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS      415 

"I  thought  it  was  a  yacht.  Was  I  as  dull  as  that?'' 
he  demanded. 

"Be  it  far  from  me  to  say ;  but  I  was  getting  a  little 
breathless.  Even  the  professional  monologuists  in  the 


vaudeville  have  to  rest." 


He  was  not  in  a  humor  for  frivolous  conversation; 
but  she  had  never  been  so  gay.  He  had  committed  him 
self  to  general  chaos  and  yet  she  was  smiling  amid  the 
ruin  of  the  world. 

"I  don't  believe  there  are  any  letter  boxes  along 
here/'  she  continued,  looking  straight  ahead.  He  re 
membered  his  letter;  he  was  stupidly  carrying  it  in  his 
hand;  his  fingers  were  cramped  from  their  clutch  upon 
it.  It  was  not  easy  to  resist  her  mood,  and  he  now 
laughed  in  spite  of  himself. 

"I'm  disappointed.  I  thought  they  had  all  the  neces 
sities  of  a  successful  summer  resort  here, — even  mails." 

"Rather  poor,  don't  you  think?  I  suppose  you  were 
carrying  the  letter  to  get  an  opening  for  that." 

They  paused  and  John  held  open  the  little  gate  in 
the  stone  wall.  He  was  grave  again,  and  something  of 
his  seriousness  communicated  itself  to  her.  Clearly, 
he  thought,  this  was  the  parting  of  the  ways.  He  had 
not  relaxed  his  hold  upon  the  letter;  it  was  a  straw  at 
which  he  clutched  for  support. 

"Won't  you  come  in?  There  are  plenty  of  trains 
and  we'd  like  you  to  dine  with  us." 

A  great  wave  of  loneliness  and  yearning  swept  over 
him.  Her  invitation  seemed  to  create  new  and  limit 
less  distances  that  stretched  between  them.  In  fumbling 
with  the  latch  of  the  gate  he  had  dropped  his  letter. 
The  wind  caught  and  carried  it  out  into  the  grass. 


416  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

He  went  soberly  after  it  and  picked  it  up.  There 
was  a  dogged  resignation  in  his  step  as  he  walked 
slowly  across  the  grass.  While  he  was  securing  the  bit 
of  paper,  she  sat  down  on  a  rustic  bench  and  waited 
for  him. 

"The  fates  don't  agree  with  you  about  the  letter, 
Mr.  Saxton.  You  were  looking  for  a  letter  box  and 
they  tried  to  thwart  you." 

"I'm  not  superstitious/'  said  John,  smiling  a  little. 

"One  needn't  be, — to  act  on  the  direct  hints  of 
Providence." 

She  sat  at  comfortable  ease  on-  the  bench,  holding 
her  parasol  across  her  lap.  There  was  room  for  two, 
and  John  sat  down. 

"Suppose  it  were  a  check  on  an  overdrawn  account; 
would  Providence  intervene  to  prevent  an  overdraft?" 

"That's  a  commercial  hypothesis;  I  think  we  should 
be  above  such  considerations."  Then  they  were  silent. 
John  bent  forward  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees, 
playing  with  his  stick  and  still  holding  the  letter.  The 
wind  came  up  out  of  the  sea  and  blew  in  their  faces. 
The  brass  mountings  of  the  yacht  shone  resplendent  in 
the  slanting  rays  of  the  lowering  sun.  It  was  very  calm 
and  restful  in  the  orchard.  Two  robins  came  and  in 
spected  them,  and  then  flew  away  to  one  of  the  gnarled 
old  trees  to  gossip  about  them. 

"It  happens  to  be  important,"  said  John,  indicating 
the  letter. 

"Oh,  pardon  me!"  with  real  contrition.  It  was  not 
her  way  to  flirt  with  a  young  man  over  a  letter.  John 
held  up  the  envelope  so  that  she  saw  the  superscription. 
She  knew  the  name  very  well.  It  was  constantly  in 


• 


AT  THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS 

the  newspapers,  and  the  owner  of  it  had  dined  once 
at  her  father's  house. 

"He's  the  head  of  the  syndicate  that  has  bought  the 
Traction  Company.  He  has  asked  me  to  stay  in  Clark- 
son  and  run  the  street  cars." 

"That's  very  nice.  But  merit  gets  rewarded  some 
times." 

"But  I  have  refused  the  offer/5  he  said  quietly.  He 
had  not  intended  to  tell  her;  but  it  was  doubtless  just 
as  well;  and  it  would  alter  nothing.  "My  work  in 
Clarkson  is  finished/'  he  went  on.  "Warry's  affairs  will 
make  it  necessary  for  me  to  go  back  from  time  to  time, 
but  it  will  not  be  home  again." 

"I'm  sorry/'  she  said.  "I  thought  you  were  to  be 
of  us.  But  I  suppose  there  is  a  greater  difference 
between  the  East  and  the  West  than  any  one  can  un 
derstand  who  has  not  known  both."  They  regarded 
each  other  gravely,  as  if  this  were,  of  course,  the  whole 
matter  at  issue. 

"I  can't  go  back, — it's  too  much;  I  can't  do  it,"  he 
said  wearily. 

"I  know  how  it  must  be, — this  last  year  and  Warry ! 
It  was  all  so  terrible — for  all  of  us."  She  was  look 
ing  away ;  the  wind  had  freshened ;  the  yacht's  pennant 
stood  out  against  the  blue  sky. 

John  rose  and  looked  down  at  her.  It  was  natural 
that  she  should  include  herself  with  him  in  a  common 
grief  for  the  man  who  had  been  his  friend  and  whom 
she  had  loved.  She  had  always  been  kind  to  him ;  her 
kindness  stung  him  now,  for  he  knew  that  it  was  be 
cause  of  Warry;  and  a  resolve  woke  in  him  suddenly. 


418  THE  MAIN  CHANCE 

He  would  not  suffer  her  kindness  under  a  false  pre 
tense;  he  could  at  least  be  honest  with  her. 

"I  can't  go  back,  because  he  is  not  there;  and  be 
cause — because  you  are  there!  You  don't  know, — you 
should  never  know,  but  I  was  disloyal  to  Warry  from 
the  first.  I  let  him  talk  to  me  from  day  to  day  of  you ; 
I  let  him  tell  me  that  he  loved  you;  I  never  let  him 
know — I  never  meant  any  one  to  know — "  He  ceased 
speaking;  she  was  very  still  and  did  not  look  at  him. 
"It  was  base  of  me/'  he  went  on.  "I  would  gladly  have 
died  for  him  if  he  had  lived;  but  now  that  he  is  dead 
I  can  betray  him.  I  hate  myself  worse  than  you  can 
hate  me.  I  know  how  I  must  wound  and  shock 
you—" 

"Oh,  no !"  she  moaned. 

But  he  went  on;    he  would  spare  himself  nothing. 

"It  is  hideous — it  was  cowardly  of  me  to  come  here." 
His  hands  were  clenched  and  his  face  twitched  with 
pain.  "Oh,  if  he  had  lived !  If  he  had  lived !" 

She  rose  now  and  looked  at  him  with  an  infinite 
pity.  This  is  one  of  God's  unreckoned  gifts  to  man, — 
the  gift  of  pity  that  He  has  made  the  great  secret  of  a 
woman's  eyes.  Evelyn's  were  gray  now,  like  the  stretch 
of  sea  beyond  her,  where  a  mist  was  creeping  shore 
ward  over  the  blue  water. 

"If  he  had  lived,"  she  said  very  softly,  looking  away 
through  the  sun-dappled  aisles  of  the  orchard,  "if  he 
had  lived — it  would  have  been  the  same,  John." 

But  he  did  not  understand.  His  name  as  she  spoke 
it  rang  strange  in  his  ears.  The  letter  had  fallen  to 
the  ground  and  lay  in  the  grass  between  them ;  he  half 
stooped  to  pick  it  up,  not  knowing  what  he  did. 


AT  THE  PASTING  OF  THE  WAYS      419 

She  walked  away  through  the  orchard  path,  which 
suddenly  became  to  him  a  path  of  gold  that  stretched 
into  paradise;  and  he  sprang  after  her  with  a  great 
fear  in  his  heart,  lest  some  barrier  might  descend  and 
shut  her  out  forever. 

"Evelyn !    Evelyn !" 

It  was  not  a  voice  that  called  her;  it  was  a  spirit, 
long  held  in  thrall,  that  had  shaken  free  and  become 
a  name. 


A  LIST  of  IMPORTANT  FICTION 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


is  fresh  and  spontaneous,  having  notliing  of 
that  wooden  quality  which  is  becoming 
associated    ivith    the    term 
"  historical  novel" 


HEARTS 
COURAGEOUS 

By  HALLIE  ERMINIE  RIVES 


"  Hearts  Courageous  "  is  made  of  new  material,  a  pic 
turesque  yet  delicate  style,  good  plot  and  very  dramatic 
situations.  The  best  in  the  book  are  the  defence  of  George 
Washington  by  the  Marquis  ;  the  duel  between  the  English 
officer  and  the  Marquis;  and  Patrick  Henry  flinging  the 
brand  of  war  into  the  assembly  of  the  burgesses  of  Virginia. 
Williamsburg,  Virginia,  the  country  round  about,  and 
the  life  led  in  that  locality  just  before  the  Revolution,  form 
an  attractive  setting  for  the  action  of  the  story. 

With  six  illustrations  by  A.  B.  Wenzell 
i2mo.      Price,  $1.50 


The    Bpbbs- Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


THE  GREAT  NOVEL  OF  THE  YEAR 

THE  MISSISSIPPI 
BUBBLE 

How  the  star  of  good  fortune  rose  and  set  and  rose 

again,  by  a  woma?i>  s  grace,  for  one 

John  Law,  of  Lauriston 

A  novel  by  EMERSON  HOUGH 


Emerson  Hough  has  written  one  of  the  best  novels  that  has 
come  out  of  America  in  many  a  day.  It  is  an  exciting  story, 
with  the  literary  touch  on  every  page. 

— JEANNETTE  L.  GILDER,  of  The  Critic. 

In  "The  Mississippi  Bubble"  Emerson  Hough  has  taken 
John  Law  and  certain  known  events  in  his  career,  and  about 
them  he  hao  "oven  a  web  of  romance  full  of  brilliant  coloring 
and  cunning  work.  It  proves  conclusively  that  Mr.  Hough 
is  a  novelist  of  no  ordinary  quality. — The  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

As  a  novel  embodying  a  wonderful  period  in  the  growth  of 
America  "The  Mississippi  Bubble"  is  of  intense  interest.  As 
a  love  story  it  is  rarely  and  beautifully  told.  John  Law,  as 
drawn  in  this  novel,  is  a  great  character,  cool,  debonair,  auda 
cious,  he  is  an  Admirable  Crichton  in  his  personality,  and  a 
Napoleon  in  his  far-reaching  wisdom. — The  Chicago  American. 

The  Illustrations  by  Henry  Hutt 
I2mo,  452  pages,  $1.50 


The    Bobbs-Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


YOUTH,  SPLENDOR  AND  TRAGEDY 

FRANC EZKA 

By  MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEAWELL 


There  is  no  character  in  fiction  more  lovable  and  appeal 
ing  than  is  Francezka.  Miss  Seawell  has  told  a  story  of  youth, 
splendor  and  tragedy  with  an  art  which  links  it  with  summer 
dreams,  which  drowns  the  somber  in  the  picturesque,  which 
makes  pain  and  vice  a  stage  wonder. 

The  book  is  marked  by  the  same  sparkle  and  cleverness  of 
the  author's  earlier  work,  to  which  is  added  a  dignity  and  force 
which  makes  it  most  noteworthy. 


**  Here  is  a  novel  that  not  only  provides  the  reader  with  a 
succession  of  sprightly  adventures,  but  furnishes  a  narrative 
brilliant,  witty  and  clever.  The  period  is  the  first  half  of  that 
most  fascinating,  picturesque  and  epoch-making  century,  the 
eighteenth.  Francezka  is  a  winsome  heroine.  The  story  has 
light  and  shadow  and  high  spirits,  tempered  with  the  gay, 
mocking,  debonair  philosophy  of  the  time."— Brooklyn  Times. 

Charmingly  illustrated  by  Harrison  Fisher 

Bound  in  green  and  white  and  gold 

1 2mo,  cloth.      Price,  $1.50 


The    Bobbs-Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


A  BRILLIANT  AND  SERIOUS  NOVEL 

CHILDREN  OF 
DESTINY 

By   MOLLY    ELLIOT    SEAWELL 

Author  of  Francezka  and  The  Sprightly  Romance  of  Marsac. 


One  of  Miss  Seawell's  most  brilliant  and  serious  works  is 
this  novel  of  Old  Virginia.  One  lives  again  the  patrician  ele 
gance  of  those  mannerly  times  with  all  their  freedom  and  all 
their  limitations.  In  the  midst  of  those  quiet  people — some 
rich  in  worldly  goods,  all  rich  in  their  birth  and  station — is 
born  a  man  with  the  unrest  of  genius.  Miss  Seawell's  power 
ful  delineations  of  this  man's  character,  her  charming  presen 
tation  of  the  old  days,  her  sprightly  humor,  playing  on  the 
foibles  of  these  early  nineteenth  century  aristocrats,  the  tender 
ness  and  beautiful  love  of  her  heroine,  show  her  as  a  brilliant 
writer  and  deep  thinker.  In  none  of  her  other  books  is  her 
art  so  true  and  her  touch  so  poised. 

With  six  Illustrations  by  A.  B.  Wenzell  and  a 

Cover  in  Blue  and  Gold, 
izmo,  Cloth,  Price,  $1.50 


The    Bobbs-Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


A  SPLENDIDLY  VITAL  NARRATION 

THE  MASTER  OF 
APPLEBY 

A  romance  of  the  Carolinas 
By  FRANCIS  LYNDE 


Viewed  either  as  a  delightful  entertainment  or  as 
a  skilful  and  finished  piece  of  literary  art,  this  is 
easily  one  of  the  most  important  of  recent  novels. 
One  can  not  read  a  dozen  pages  without  realizing 
that  the  author  has  mastered  the  magic  of  the  story 
teller's  art.  After  the  dozen  pages  the  author  is 
forgotten  in  his  creations. 

It  is  rare,  indeed,  that  characters  in  fiction  live 
and  love,  suffer  and  fight,  grasp  and  renounce  in 
so  human  a  fashion  as  in  this  splendidly  vital  nar 
ration. 

With  pictures  by  T.  de  Thulstrup 
I2mo,  cloth.      Price,  $1.50 


The    Bpbbs- Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


WHAT  BOOK  BY  A  NEW  AUTHOR  HAS 
RECEIVED  SUCH  PRAISE? 


WHAT  MANNER 
OF  MAN 

By  EDNA  KENTON 


The  novel,  *'  What  Manner  of  Man,"  is  a  si~udy  of  what 
is  commonly  known  as  the  "artistic  temperament,"  and  a 
novel  so  far  above  the  average  ievd  of  merit  as  to  cause  even 
tired  reviewers  to  sit  up  and  take  hope  once  more. 

— New  York  Times. 

It  will  certainly  stand  out  as  one  of  the  most  notable  novels 
of  the  year. — Philadelphia  Press. 

It  does  not  need  a  trained  critical  faculty  to  recognize  that 
this  book  is  something  more  than  clever. — N.  Y.  Commercial. 

Note  should  be  made  of  the  liferary  charm  and  value  of  the 
work,  and  likewise  of  its  eminently  readable  quality,  considered 
purely  as  a  romance. — Philadelphia  Record. 

Literary  distinction  is  stamped  on  every  page, and  the  author's 
insight  into  the  human  heart  gives  promise  of  a  brilliant:  future. 
—  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

The  whole  book  is  full  of  dramatic  force.  The  author  is 
an  unusual  thinker  and  observer,  and  has  a  rare  gift  for  creative 
literature. — Philadelphia  Evening  Telegraph. 

"  What  Manner  of  Man  "  is  a  study  and  a  creation. 

— N.  Y.   World. 

I2mo,  Cloth,  Gilt  Top,  $1.50 


The    Bobbs-Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


DIFFERENT   AND    DELIGHTFUL 

UNDER  THE 
ROSE 

A  Story  of  the  Loves  of  a  Duke  and  a  Jester 

By  FREDERIC   S.   ISHAM 

Author  of  The  Strollers 


In  "  Under  the  Rose  "  Mr.  Isham  has  written  a  most 
entertaining  book — the  plot  is  unique  ;  the  style  is  graceful  and 
clever  ;  the  whole  story  is  pervaded  by  a  spirit  of  sunshine  and 
good  humor,  and  the  ending  is  a  happy  one.  Mr.  Christy's 
pictures  mark  a  distinct  step  forward  in  illustrative  art.  There 
is  only  one  way,  and  it  is  an  entertaining  one,  to  find  out  what 
is  "  Under  the  Rose  " — read  it 


"  No  one  will  take  up  '  Under  the  Rose  '  and  lay  it  down 
before  completion  ;  many  will  even  return  to  it  for  a  repeated 
reading" — Book  News. 

"  Mr.  Isham  tells  all  of  his  fanciful,  romantic  tale  delight 
fully.  The  reader  who  loves  romance,  intrigue  and  adventure, 
love-seasoned,  will  find  it  here." — The  Lamp. 

With  Illustrations  in  Six  Colors  by- 
Howard  Chandler  Christy 
i  2mo,  Cloth,  Price,  $1.50 

The    Bobbs-Merrill    Company,   Indianapolis 


A  NEW  NOTE    IN  FICTION 

THE  STROLLERS 

By  FREDERIC  S,  ISHAM 


"The  Strollers'"  is  a  novel  of  much  merit. 

The  scenes  are  laid  in  that  picturesque  and  interesting 
period  of  American  life— the  last  of  the  stage-coach  days — 
the  days  of  the  strolling  player. 

The  author,  Frederic  S.  Isham,  gives  a  delightful  and 
accurate  account  of  a  troop  of  players  making  a  circuit  in 
the  wilderness  from  New  York  to  New  Orleans,  travelling  by 
stage,  carrying  one  wagon  load  of  scenery,  playing  in  town 
halls,  taverns,  barns  or  whatnot. 

"  The  Strollers  "  is  a  new  note  in  fiction. 

With  eight  illustrations  by  Harrison  Fisher 
i2mo.       Price,  $1.50 


The    Bobbs-Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


"  NOTHING   BUT    PRAISE" 

LAZARRE 

By  MARY  HARTWELL  CATHERWOOD 


Glorified  by  a  beautiful  love  story.— Chicago  Tribune. 

We  feel  quite  justified  in  predicting  a  wide-spread  and 
prolonged  popularity  for  this  latest  comer  Into  the  ranks  of 
historical  fiction. —  The  N.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 

After  all  the  material  for  the  story  had  been  collected  a 
year  was  required  for  the  writing  of  it.  It  is  an  historical 
romance  of  the  better  sort,  with  stirring  situations,  good  bits 
of  character  drawing  and  a  satisfactory  knowledge  of  the 
tone  and  atmosphere  of  the  period  involved. — N.  K.  Herald. 

Lazarre,  is  no  less  a  person  than  the  Dauphin,  Louis 
XVII.  of  France,  and  a  right  royal  hero  he  makes.  A  prince 
who,  for  the  sake  oi  his  ladyf  scorns  perils  in  two  hemis 
pheres,  facing  the  wrath  of  kings  in  Europe  and  the  bullets 
of  savages  in  America;  who  at  the  last  spurns  a  kingdom  that 
he  may  wed  her  freely — here  is  one  to  redeem  the  sins  of  even 
those  who  "never  learn  and  never  forget."— Philadelphia 
North  A  merican. 

With  six  Illustrations  by  Andr6  Castaigne 
12  mo.       Price,  $1.50 


The    Bobbs-Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


"THE  MERRIEST  NOVEL  OF  MANY, 
MANY  MOONS " 


MY  LADY  PEGGY 
GOES  TO  TOWN 

By  FRANCES  AYMAR  MATHEWS 

The  Daintiest  and   Most  Delightful  Book 
of  the  Season. 

A  heroine  almost  too  charming  to  be  true  5s  Peggy,  and 
it  wsre  a  churlish  reader  who  is  not,  at  the  end  of  the  first 
chapter,  prostrate  betore  her  red  slippers. — Washington  Post. 

To  make  a  comparison  would  be  to  rank  "My  Lady 
Peggy"  with  "Monsieur  Beaucaire"  in  points  of  attraction 
and  to  applaud  as  heartily  as  that  delicate  romance,  this 
picture  of  the  days  "When  patches  nestled  o'er  sweet  lips 
af  ,bocolate  times."— .AT.  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 

12  moe     Beautifully  illustrated  and  bound. 
Price,  $1.25  net 

The    Bobbs-Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


A  VIVACIOUS  ROMANCE  OF  REVOLU 
TIONARY  DAYS 


ALICE  of  OLD 

VINGENNES 

By  MAURICE  THOMPSON 


The  Atlanta  Constitution  says  : 

"Mr.  Thompson,  whose  delightful  writings  in  prose  and 
verse  have  made  his  reputation  national,  has  achieved  his 
master  stroke  of  genius  in  this  historical  novel  of  revolu 
tionary  days  in  the  West." 

The  Denver  Daily  Neivs  says  : 

"There  are  three  great  chapters  of  fiction  :  Scott's  tourna 
ment  on  Ashby  field,  General  Wallace's  chariot  race,  and 
now  Maurice  Thompson's  duel  scene  and  the  raising  of 
Alice's  flag  over  old  Fort  Vincennes. 

The  Chicago  Record-Herald  says  : 

"  More  original  than  '  Richard  Carvel,'  more  cohesive  than 
'To  Have  and  To  Hold,'  more  vital  than  '  Janice  Mere 
dith,'  such  is  Maurice  Thompson's  superb  American  ro 
mance,  'Alice  of  Old  Vincennes.'  It  is,  in  addition, 
more  artistic  and  spontaneous  than  any  of  its  rivals." 

VIRGINIA  HARNED  EDITION 

I2mo,  with  six  Illustrations  by  F.  C.  Yohn,  and  a  Frontis 
piece  in  Color  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy.      Price,  $i  .50 


The    Bobbs- Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


A  STORY  BY  THE  "MARCH  KING" 

THE 
FIFTH  STRING 

By  JOHN  PHILIP  SOUSA 

The  "  March  King"  has  written  much  in  a  musical  way, 
but  "  The  Fifth  String  "  is  his  first  published  story.  In  the 
choice  of  his  subject,  as  the  title  indicates,  Mr.  Sousa  has 
remained  faithful  to  his  art;  and  the  great  public,  that  has 
learned  to  love  him  for  the  marches  he  has  made,  will  be  as 
delighted  with  his  pen  as  with  his  baton. 

"The  Fifth  String"  has  a  strong  and  clearly  defined 
plot  which  shows  in  its  treatment  the  author's  artistically 
sensitive  temperament  and  his  tremendous  dramatic  power. 
It  is  a  story  of  a  marvelous  violin,  of  a  v/onderful  love  and  of 
a  strange  temptation. 

A  cover,  especially  designed,  and  six  full-page  illustra 
tions  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy,  serve  to  give  the  dis 
tinguishing  decorative  embellishments  that  this  first  book  by 
Mr.  Sousa  so  richly  deserves. 

With  Pictures  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy 
12  mo.     Price,  $1.25 

The    Bobbs-Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


A  GOOD  DETECTIVE  STORY 

THE 
FILIGREE  BALL 


By  ANNA  KATHERIXE  GREEN 
Author  of  "The  Leavenworth  Case  " 


This  is  something  more  than  a  mere  detective  story  ;  it  is 
a  thrilling  romance — a  romance  of  mystery  and  crime  where 
a  shrewd  detective  helps  to  solve  the  mystery.  The  plot  is  a 
novel  and  intricate  one,  carefully  worked  out.  There  are  con 
stant  accessions  to  the  main  mystery,  so  that  the  reader  can 
not  possibly  imagine  the  conclusion.  The  story  is  clean-cut 
and  wholesome,  with  a  quality  that  might  be  called  manly. 
The  characters  are  depicted  so  as  to  make  a  living  impression. 
Cora  Tuttle  is  a  fine  creation,  and  the  flash  of  love  which  she 
gives  the  hero  is  wonderfully  well  done.  Unlike  many  mystery 
stories  The  Filigree  Ball  is  not  disappointing  at  the  end.  The 
characters  most  liked  but  longest  suspected  are  proved  not  only 
guiltless,  but  above  suspicion.  It  is  a  story  to  be  read  with  a 
rush  and  at  a  sitting,  for  no  one  can  put  it  dfvn  until  the 
mystery  is  solved. 

Illustrated  by  C.  M.  Relyea. 

1 2mo,    Cloth,    Price,    £1.50 


The    Bobbs-Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


A  VIVID  WESTERN   STORY  OF  LOVE 
AND  POLITICS 


THE  1 3TH  DISTRICT 

By  BRAND  WHITLOCK 


This  is  a  story  of  high  order.  By  its  scope  and  strength 
it  deserves  to  be  spoken  of  as  a  novel—and  that  word  has 
been  very  much  abused  by  hanging  it  to  any  old  thing.  It 
is  a  wonderfully  good  and  interesting  account  of  the  workings 
of  politics  from  before  the  primaries  on  through  election, 
with  a  splendid  love  story  also  woven  into  it. 

One  would  think  for  instance,  that  it  would  be  impossible 
to  give  an  account  of  a  "  primary  "  and  keep  it  interesting ; 
it  is  natural  to  suppose  a  writer  would  become  entangled  with 
the  dull  routine  of  it  all,  but  he  does  not,  he  makes  it  inter 
esting.  He  shows  the  tricks,  the  heat,  the  passion,  the 
tumult ;  the  weariness  and  stubborness  of  a  dead  lock.  The 
descriptions  of  society  life  in  the  book  are  equally  good. 

i2mo.       Price,  $1.50 


The    Bobbs- Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  FORGIVENESS 

THE  LOOM 
OF  LIFE 

By  CHARLES  FREDERIC  GOSS 

Author  of  "The  Redemption  of  David  Corson." 


In  "The  Loom  of  Life"  Dr.  Goss  has  written  a  power 
ful  book,  filled  with  the  poetry  and  tragedy  of  life.  It  tells  a 
novel  and  impressive  story  in  a  style  marked  by  a  charming 
felicity  of  expression. 

The  story,  which  has  an  epic  broadness  and  strength,  is  of 
a  young  girl  who  revenges  a  wrong  done  to  her  with  life-long 
persecution.  Finally,  however,  she  is  forced  to  realize  that  on 
earth  peace  and  happiness  can  be  obtained  only  by  forgiveness. 

"Mr.  Goss'  splendid  powers  have  been  demonstrated  afresh. 
This  book  alone  is  strong  enough,  big  enough,  important 
enough,  enough  suggestive  and  informing,  to  make  a  reputa 
tion  for  any  one. 

' '  He  has  already  a  large  audience  created  by  his  earlier 
book,  'The  Redemption  of  David  Corson.'  The  new  book 
will  at  once  find  favorable  and  eager  readers." 

— The  Living  Church. 

izmo,  cloth.      Price,  $1.50 


The    Bobbs -Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


"A  NOVEL  THAT'S  WORTH  WHILE' 

The  REDEMPTION 
of  DAVID  CORSON 

By  CHARLES  FREDERIC  GOSS 


A  Mid-century  American  Novel 
of  Intense  Power  and  Interest 


The  Interior  says  : 

"  This  is  a  book  that  is  worth  while.  Though  it  tells  of 
weakness  and  wickedness,  of  love  and  license,  of  revenge 
and  remorse  in  an  intensely  interesting  way,  yet  it  is  above 
all  else  a  clean  and  pure  story.  No  one  can  read  it  and 
honestly  ask  *  what's  the  use.'  " 

Newell  D'wight  Hillis,  Pastor  of  Plymouth  Church,  Brooklyn, 
says : 

"  *  The  Redemption  of  David  Corson'  strikes  a  strong,  healthy, 
buoyant  note." 

Dr.  F.  W.  Gunsaulus,  President  Armour  Institute,  says  i 
"Mr.  Goss  writes  with  the  truthfulness  of  light.  He  has 
told  a  story  in  which  the  fact  of  sin  is  illuminated  with  the 
utmost  truthfulness  and  the  fact  of  redemption  is  portrayed 
with  extraordinary  power.  There  are  lines  of  greatness  in 
the  book  which  I  shall  never  forget.'* 

President  M.  W.  Stryker,  Hamilton  College,  says  i 

1  <  It  is  a  victory  in  writing  for  one  whose  head  seems  at  last 

to  have  matched  his  big  human  heart.    There  is  ten  times 

as  much  of  reality  in  it  as  there  is  in  '  David  Harum,'  which 

does  not  value  lightly  that  admirable  charcoal  sketch." 

Price,  $1.50 


The    Bobbs- Merrill    Company,    Indiatiapolis 


"AS  CRISP  AND  CLEAN  CUT 
AS    A    NEW    MINTAGE." 


THE 
PUPPET    CROWN 

BY  HAROLD  MAcGRATH 


A  princess  rarely  beautiful ;  a  duchess  magnificent  and 
heartless;  a  villain  revengeful  and  courageous;  a  hero  youth 
ful,  humorous,  fearless  and  truly  American; — such  are  the 
principal  characters  of  this  delightful  story. — Syracuse  Post- 
Standard. 

Harold  MacGrath  has  attained  the  highest  point  achiev 
able  in  recent  fiction.  We  have  the  climax  of  romance  and 
adventure  in  "The  Puppet  Crown." —  The  Philadelphia 
North  American. 

Superior  to  most  of  the  great  successes. — St.  Paul  Pioneer 
Press. 

"The  Puppet  Crown"  is  a  profusion  of  cleverness. — Bal 
timore  A  merican. 

Challenges  comparison  with  authors  whose  names  have 
become  immortal — Chicago  American. 

Latest  entry  in  the  list  of  winners.—  Cleveland  World. 

With  illustrations  by   R.   Martine   Reay 
121110.      Price,  $i  50 


The    Bobbs- Merrill    Company,    Indianapolis 


FOURTEEN  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


'f.f.  »        ir:  PV 

30Rprutr 
APR-I  71956  LG 

RETURNED  TO 

ASTRON.,  MATH. 

STAr.  LIBRARY 
A     1  rt  r*o 

JAN      3  1962 

NOV  2  7  1965  6  1 

Otr/-»*r-k 

WtC  D 

Wf)»/  Ou  »r«e- 

wui/2;  65-9  AM 

LOAN  DEPT. 

'^-  Is  1996 

LD  21-100m-2,'55 
(B139s22)476 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


U.  C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


CDSSDSE^fifl 


